The shock on Megan’s face reminded him he hadn’t yet hung up, and he turned away and raised the receiver to his ear again, walking back to the sliding doors in the hope that the warm sun slanting through them would warm his suddenly clammy skin. “Dion?” Ben said. “Are you still there?” “I’m here,” Dion said hoarsely. “Sorry.” “Are you okay?” “I’m fine. How’s the family?” Dion spoke stonily. After his father and stepmother had divorced, he’d hardly seen her at all, and he’d never had a lot of love for his half-brothers. They were too like his father—cold and calculating, and now that Jack had been made CEO, he felt even less love for him. “They’re okay—they were expecting it. He’s not been well the past week.” “When’s the funeral?” Dion asked, his head spinning. “Not sure yet, what with Christmas and everything. It’ll probably be a week at least.” “I’ll come back,” Dion said, not wanting to look at Megan. “Of course,”
