Worst Fears Realized

together. It feels as if we have always lived here.” He kissed her lightly.

    “It was my great pleasure to do this for you,” Mrs. Menzies said. “I’ve done all the other things you asked me to do, as well. Shall I fix you a drink, and we’ll talk about them?”
    “What a very good idea,” Menzies replied. “May I have a martini? I haven’t had a martini for such a long time.” He took a seat on the living-room sofa and relaxed, while his wife puttered at the wet bar.
    She returned with a tray containing two martinis and some canapés that she had prepared earlier, in anticipation of her husband’s homecoming. She set her drink on the coffee table, then brought an accordion file to the sofa, before taking a sip. “Here are the legal documents,” she said, “all in perfect order. Here are the ownership papers for the apartment; and here are the bank and brokerage statements, arranged by date. And here are your passport and driver’s license applications. Your appointment for the driving test is tomorrow at three.”
    Menzies looked quickly through the documents. “You are a wonder!” he exclaimed. “Everything is exactly as I wished it to be. Now, my dear,” he said, taking her hands in his, “what about your personal arrangements?”
    “I did everything exactly as you asked. I brought nothing from my old apartment here—not so much as a teacup.”
    “And everything at your old apartment is in perfect order?”
    “Absolutely perfect. There is nothing new there; only my old things. I intend to give everything to the Salvation Army.”
    “Now tell me this, dear, and this is most important.Have you told anyone of your move here?”
    “Not a soul.”
    “Have you done anything to alert any of your friends or neighbors that you were about to move?”
    “Nothing. No one knows.”
    He patted her cheek and kissed her again. “Good girl.” He polished off his martini. “Now, if you will forgive me, I must do some work in my study for a while.”
    “I’ll start cooking dinner, then,” she said.
    “Oh, no; I’ve already made a reservation at a very good restaurant for dinner. It will be my surprise; can you be ready at eight?”
    “Of course! I look forward to it. Now, you go and do your work. My soap opera is on now, and I never miss it.”
    “Good, good.” Menzies gathered up the papers and went to his study, a handsome, book-lined room—books that he had collected for many years. He closed the door behind him, set the papers on his desk, sat down behind it, picked up a phone, and dialed a number. “I’m here,” he said to the man who answered. “Yes, all is well. Be downstairs in”—he looked at his watch—“three-quarters of an hour, exactly.” He hung up the phone and went to work, examining each of the legal documents in minute detail. It was perfect. He looked over the copy of his combined credit report, stretching back the usual seven years. Every payment on every account had been made on time. He leafed through the stock-account statements, though he was already very familiar with them. The balances, at the end of the previous month, totaled just over fifteen million dollars, and the market had gone up since then. He felt a wave of contentment at the thought of his wealth.
    A copy of that day’sWall Street Journal sat on the desk. He folded it and opened a desk drawer, looking for an envelope and finding it exactly where he had asked her to put it.She really is a good organizer , he thought. He stuffed the newspaper into the envelope, sealed it, and wrote in large letters on its outside “Mr. Smith” and an address. He glanced at his watch, then returned to the living room. “My dear,” he said, “there is one more matter to which I must ask you to attend, if you don’t mind.”
    “Oh, no, Herbie,” she said. “I don’t mind at all.”
    “Ach!” he exclaimed, raising a forefinger.
    “Oh, I’m so sorry—Howard.”
    “That’s better; you must never forget. Now come, we’ll go downstairs, and I’ll explain on the way.” He led her out of the apartment and onto the elevator. “Take this envelope,” he said, handing it to her.
    She accepted the envelope. “Mr. Smith,” she said.
    “Yes, and the address in Long Island City is also there. I’ve arranged a car and driver for you, and I want you to deliver this envelope to this gentleman and get a receipt. That’s very important, the receipt.”
    “What sort of receipt?” she asked.
    “It should