“No,” I said quietly. “But he asked me to call if I ever needed to open an envelope he notarized for me in 1993.”
Another pause—longer this time.
“Please hold.”
Soft instrumental music filled my ear while my heart hammered against my ribs.
Downstairs I could hear Alexis laughing with guests on the patio, her voice bright and charming in that way she used with strangers.
The same voice that had told me to choose between a nursing home and a horse stall.
The music stopped.
A new voice came on the line—older, rougher, but unmistakably alert.
“Sophia?”
I closed my eyes.
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