He arrived at seven exactly.
Of course he did.
Fina heard the buzzer from the kitchen where she was doing three things simultaneously — pasta on the stove, garlic bread in the oven, mentally preparing for whatever Frank was about to do.
"Phoebe!" she called.
"I'm not getting it!" Phoebe called back.
"Phoebe —"
"You get it! He's your boyfriend!"
Frank's voice from his room: "She said boyfriend."
"I heard," Fina said to nobody.
She wiped her hands on the dish towel and went to the intercom.
"Third floor," she said.
Clicked the door open.
Went back to the pasta.
Told herself this was fine. Normal. People had dinner guests every Sunday. This was not remarkable in any way.
Phoebe appeared in the kitchen doorway in her best casual outfit — the one she wore when she was trying to lo
