The Whitmore family mansion in an upscale neighborhood outside Dallas was still silent.
The only sounds were the bubbling coffee pot, the skillet warming tortillas, and the tired whimpers of three-month-old Lily pressed against Emily’s chest.
Emily had been awake since 2:15 a.m.
First because the baby had colic.
Then because her mother-in-law, Eleanor Whitmore, had left a handwritten note on the marble counter:
“Breakfast ready before 6. No onions in Harold’s eggs. Smoothie for Vanessa. Strong coffee for Daniel. Don’t forget to iron his blue shirt.”
Emily read the note without surprise.
In that house, nobody asked for things.
Continue on the next page:
