Nora called a locksmith because her front door kept opening when she wanted it shut.
“It isn’t the lock,” she told him. “The lock works. The door simply won’t stay closed.”
The locksmith, Amir, arrived with a toolbox and a patient expression. Nora demonstrated. She pulled the door shut; it clicked. She took three steps toward the kitchen, and it swung open.
Amir checked the hinges. He checked the latch. He checked whether the frame was square. The door behaved perfectly each time he touched it.
“Perhaps it only opens for you,” he said.
“I wish it would explain why.”
Her neighbor Mrs. Ellis appeared on the landing, carrying a shopping bag. She was delighted to find someone with tools at Nora’s door.
“Good,” she said. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that.”
Nora folded her arms. “You’ve seen it happen?”
“Every afternoon.”
Amir asked Mrs. Ellis to watch while Nora repeated the demonstration. Nora closed the door, walked away, and waited. Nothing happened. She returned, put her hand on the knob, and the door stayed closed.
Mrs. Ellis set down her bag. “You’re doing it at the wrong time.”
“What time does a door prefer?” Amir asked.
“About three thirty. That’s when I come back from the shops.”
Nora looked horrified. “Do you mean you open it?”
“Of course I don’t. I ring the bell.”
Nora opened her mouth, then shut it. Amir found that more interesting than the hinges.
“Let’s do exactly what happens,” he said. “Mrs. Ellis, please take your bag downstairs and come back.”
Mrs. Ellis descended one flight. Nora closed the door. Amir stood just inside with his notebook. A minute later the bell rang. Nora called, “Come in!” Without touching the handle, she walked toward the kitchen.
The door remained shut.
“That’s odd,” Nora said. “Usually it’s open by then.”
Mrs. Ellis rang again.
Nora called, louder, “Come in!”
Amir opened the door. Mrs. Ellis stood outside with her bag and a raised eyebrow.
“I wasn’t going to let myself in,” she said. “It’s your house.”
Nora explained that she’d always called “Come in” because she was busy putting the kettle on. Mrs. Ellis explained that she’d always waited because a locked door was a clear sign to wait. Meanwhile someone else had been opening it.
They inspected the landing. Amir found no second entrance and no defective latch. Nora was ready to pay for a new door when a small voice came from inside.
“Is Mrs. Ellis here?”
Her grandson Leo stood behind the coat rack. He had been doing homework at Nora’s kitchen table while his parents worked. At three thirty every day, he heard Nora invite Mrs. Ellis in. To be helpful, he hurried from the kitchen, opened the door, and ran back before Nora saw him.
Mrs. Ellis smiled. “How thoughtful.”
Nora smiled too, then remembered three weeks of believing she lived in a haunted house.
Amir put away his tools. “Shall I send an invoice?”
“For what?” Nora asked.
“Finding the person who opens your door.”
Leo raised his hand. “If you’re billing by the hour, I can do it again tomorrow.”