Claire's POV
The call came Sunday morning at six-thirty.
I know this because Alexandre knocked on my bedroom door at six-thirty-one with the expression of a man who had been managing something for four days and had definitively run out of road.
"My mother," he said.
I looked at him. At the hour. At the fact that I was in my dressing gown again and had not yet had coffee and was therefore not equipped for whatever this was.
"What about her?" I said.
"She wants to meet you." He leaned against the doorframe. "Today."
"Today."
"She's called four times since Thursday. I've run out of ways to postpone." A pause. "She's also called Theo."
I stared. "She called Theo. She doesn't have Theo's—"
"She called the house phone and Theo answered because Theo answers every phone within reach rega
