I wrote that down on the back of an envelope.
“Did Vivian tell you why she wants this discussion?”
“No.”
The pencil stopped in Daniel’s hand.
I asked, “Did she tell you to bring anything?”
“No.”
“Then please call me if she gives you a time or place.”
“I will.”
I started to thank her, but Karen spoke first.
“Elena, she is not telling me much either.”
That was the first thing she had said that made the call feel less like an interview and more like a warning.
At one in the afternoon, Karen stood at her kitchen sink with a coffee mug under the faucet when I arrived. She set
the mug upside down on a towel and pulled out a chair for me.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I am.”
She sat across from me and picked up the mug again, although it was already clean.
