She did that for seven days, then on the eighth day, she mistakenly left it on the breakfast table when she went upstairs to brush her teeth. When the phone rang, Eleanor looked at it and hesitated. Her relationship with Lindsay was tenuous at best, so she had to wonder which would be the lesser of evils—answering the phone could be viewed as an invasion of privacy, yet she knew Lindsay had been nervously awaiting the call. The phone rang a second time—maybe she could grab the phone, run up the stairs and hand it to Lindsay before it stopped ringing—probably not. The arthritis in her knee forced her to take the stairs one at a time—slowly. The phone rang a third time. It was now or never, she had to make a decision and she had to make it fast. On the fourth ring Eleanor nervously lifted the phone from the table, pressed her finger to the call icon and said “hello.” “Lindsay Gray?” the caller asked. “No,”
