She never did.

“I am calling to let you know I will be in your neighborhood tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Oh?” I said, keeping my voice entirely neutral.

“I need to drop off some of Graham’s old childhood scrapbooks for the girls,” she said.

It was an excuse.

Gloria had never cared about the girls’ connection to the Ralston history before.

“I can have Graham pick them up the next time he visits you,” I said.

“No,” Gloria said quickly, her tone clipping the end of the word. “I want to bring them myself. And I want to see this little office of yours.”

I could hear the condescension in her voice.

She always referred to my consulting business as my “little hobby.”

“I have a full schedule tomorrow, Gloria,” I said.

“It will only take ten minutes,” she said. “I will be there at ten o’clock.”

She paused, and I heard the faint, metallic clink of a silver spoon against a porcelain teacup.

“We also need to discuss some family matters,” she added.

“What family matters?” I asked.