I shook my head and stared at the blue building, working up the nerve to approach the door. The cold wind convinced me to duck inside the morgue’s double doors. Up a short flight of stairs I found a lone attendant sitting behind a giant semicircle of a desk. The spacious waiting area was empty except for the brown-upholstered chairs. One wall bore a framed US flag that had been made using the names of the victims at the World Trade Center. Next to it was a rendering of the World Trade Center itself, made from Chiclet-sized photographs of the victims. I wondered what the turnover was for desk attendants in this office and guessed it was high.

Minutes ticked by on my watch. A couple of couriers hurried in and out, but otherwise the room was as silent as the proverbial tomb. I pulled my cell out to see if I’d missed a call, and discovered I’d left it off. The attendant frowned as I turned it on and silently pointed at a sign banning cell phones. There wasn’t anyone to disturb, but I didn’t feel like arguing. Cold as it was, I chose the frozen sidewalk over the sensation of death warmed over inside the building.

While I was checking for messages, my phone rang. “Lily,” the voice on the other end said. “Sweetheart, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Martin?” I said, confused. After two years together, I knew my former fiancé’s voice, but two calls from him in less than a week was unusual. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine, fine. I was just thinking about you. It’s after five in Barcelona, right? I have a hell of a time keeping time zones straight. You’d think I’d have learned by now.” Martin had been born in New York, but after attending Swiss and English schools he went on to build a hotel empire with properties on five continents. He spent his life in transit.

“Actually, I’m back in New York right now. I flew in yesterday.”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming in when we spoke the other day?”

I knew that I had to tell him the truth, but I didn’t want to say the words. “I didn’t know then that I would be.”

“Did some last-minute assignment come up? Are you on deadline?” he teased.

“No.” I could have added that the week after New Year’s was a quiet one, and that I didn’t have any stories due till later in the month. Instead I stared at the sidewalk, wishing I were anywhere but the place I was standing.

“Is something wrong, Lily?” The warmth in his voice could have defrosted the street.

“My sister died,” I whispered.