CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rachel jolted awake, the eiderdown on the floor—kicked there during the night—the room still dark from drawn curtains, the rain still heavy against the panes. She glanced at her cellphone. 6:00 pm. Is that New York time or London time? Had she slept right through the day? Two missed calls. She touched the callback icon.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” Adam chuckled, the video bobbing and blurry as he climbed the stairs of their brownstone. “I guess the time change threw you for a loop.”
“Yes. That and our, um, talk last night.” She chuckled, too. “How’s Henny?”
“Napping.” The view flipped from Adam’s face to Helen, fast asleep in her bed. It zoomed in close to the flutter of eyelash, the rose-colored lips holding tight to a thumb. “I can call you back when its dinnertime, or batht
