Chapter 31
There's a delay on my mom's end. Adequately long to make me believe she's hung up. Seconds pass in which I hear only the whoosh of air sliding across the vehicle's outside. However at that point my mom talks. Her voice is tepid and without emphasis—what might be compared to dissolved vanilla frozen yogurt. "What a peculiar inquiry, Freya." I huff out an angry murmur. "I saw the email, Mom. I realize you gave her your telephone number. Did she get back to you?" Another delay. A few static pops from my telephone. "I realized you'd be irate on the off chance that you discovered," my mom says. "When did you talk?" I say. "Gracious, I don't have the foggiest idea." "You do, Mom. Presently advise me." Really stopping. More static. "Around fourteen days prior," my mom says. "D
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