25
Connell’s head whipped around when Logan said Mom. He sat up straight, unapologetically eavesdropping.
“I need you to do me a favor,” she continued. “Can you go to the hallway, to the silk scroll of Feng Po Po? No, the other one—the one with the staff. Can you take a picture of it and send it to me?”
Fascinated and surprised that Logan’s mother was still alive, he focused on her end of the conversation, despite her obvious annoyance at having him there.
“No, don’t use the big camera,” Logan said in a tone of barely controlled patience. “Take a picture with your phone.”
She tapped her fingernails on her thigh. “Because that way you don’t have to download the picture from the SD card. You can send it as a text. No. No. Just hold your phone up to the painting and tap on the camera app
