She didn’t remember if she’d given the number to anybody. Actually, she couldn’t have; she didn’t know the phone number to the house. She fumbled for the receiver and said, “Hello?” “Catherine, my dear. It’s impossible to get a hold of you.” “Hello, Salazar.” She stacked pillows behind her and settled against them. The Blue House had a great bed. The one in the master bedroom was like a fairytale princess’s, with a huge ivory lace canopy and cotton sheets with a thread-count so high they felt like silk against her skin. Thankfully the bedroom didn’t have any of Salazar’s cheap paintings. Instead there was a mirror on the wall in a soothing blue-green frame. “What are you doing up so early?” “I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d call you. Is that new cell-phone of yours working? I tried calling four times but no one picked up.” She sighed. “I don’t have it.”
