"Hello, Claire." The voice on the other end greeted warmly.
My mother's hand was shaking so hard I could hear the phone rattling slightly against her ear, and she didn't say anything. The silence stretched long enough that I thought she might drop it.
"I know this is strange," the voice continued, "calling like this. But I wanted to say it myself, not through Dorian. Congratulations on the wedding."
"Who—" my mother started.
"You don't remember my voice," he said, and there was something almost gentle in it, almost sad, "I suppose it's been a long time. Twenty years is a long time, Claire."
My mother's face went through confusion, then dawning horror, then a face of almost like recognition arriving too late to be useful.
"Andrei," she said.
"Yes."
Dorian was already moving, gesturi
