“What? Claudia’s dead?” He muttered something under his breath, a curse I didn’t quite catch. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That’s—that’s terrible. How awful for you.” There was a pause. “Are you all right? Do you need anything? Where are you staying? What can I do to help?”

“Nothing, but thank you. I’m staying with Jesse. He’s taking care of me.”

“That’s good of him, of course. But I wish you’d come stay with me.” There was a pause while my heart thudded. “I’m sorry, Lily, that sounded more like a come-on than an offer to help. Would you consider a suite at one of my hotels? You’d have people to cook and clean and you could rest. I know you refuse to relax unless forced to.”

Martin’s overbuilt, overpriced New York properties were gaudy glass skyscrapers, part condo and part hotel. The thought of staying in one of those sterile monoliths left me cold. “I appreciate the offer. Thanks, anyway.”

“I hope you’ll let me help you, Lily. Don’t shut me out. Do you—would you like me to help with the funeral? I want to do anything I can, sweetheart. You know you mean the world to me.”

It was a year since I’d left him, but the control he had over my emotions hadn’t died. I covered up my awkwardness with a question. “Was there a reason you were calling? Ridley’s not in trouble, is he?” In a way, that was a foolish question, because Martin’s teenage son was always in trouble.

“Ridley?” Martin laughed again, but it sounded forced. “No more than usual, I guess. Sweetheart, there was one thing…” His voice trailed off. “It doesn’t really matter now. I’m sorry, I have to head into a meeting. I’ll call you later today. There’s a dinner I have to attend, but I want to see you. In the meantime, will you please promise to call me if there’s anything you need?”

After we hung up, I paced a little faster. Martin had been calling for a reason but he wouldn’t say what. I tried to tamp down my curiosity, but it was too prickly. The smart thing would be to avoid talking to him, but I knew I wasn’t going to manage that. I’d just have to be firm about not seeing him. As much as contact with my ex unsettled me, it was easier to think about him than my sister, waiting for me just a few yards away. I wondered if they would let me touch her, or if I’d only see her behind glass. Drowning, I knew, distorted and bloated the features. It wasn’t something I wanted to see again. The memory of my mother’s lifeless face flashed in front of my eyes and I pushed it away.