Bright and early the next day, I greeted George, the doorman in my grandfather’s condo, who escorted me to the elevator and turned the key for the penthouse. When I’d called my mother after I’d landed the day before, she’d ordered me to get a good night’s sleep and be here as soon as I woke up.
Staring at my reflection in the polished brass panel, I tugged my earlobe. On the flight yesterday, I’d realized that it was unlike my mother to not know what was wrong with The Senator. She was the queen of control freaks, and she always demanded answers. Usually, she got them.
But when I’d asked her about it, she’d been evasive. Something wasn’t right. Was The Senator dying, and they didn’t want to tell me over the phone?
The elevator announced its arrival with a loud ding, and when the doors s
