Helena Whitlock called on Saturday morning, just as Nadia was trying to decide whether a day without work would make her feel rested or simply restless.
The older woman's name appeared on her phone, accompanied by a photograph taken during a Christmas gathering three years earlier. Helena was laughing at something outside the frame, her silver-streaked hair falling loose around her shoulders.
Nadia answered with a smile.
"Good morning, Helena."
"Darling, I hope I'm not calling too early."
"It's almost ten."
"I know, but you used to complain that nobody in this family understood the importance of sleeping late on Saturdays."
"Because nobody did. Adrian used to schedule meetings before I'd finished breakfast."
Helena chuckled.
"He inherited that unfortunate habit from his father. I
