I’m 41. The kind of woman who keeps spare granola bars in her glove box because life has taught me that you just never know.
When my phone lit up with an unknown number on a dull Tuesday afternoon, I almost let it ring out.
But something made me swipe to answer. Maybe it was a habit or intuition.
Either way, I was not ready for the voice that followed.
… I almost let it ring out.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a voice said. “I’m your friend Charlotte’s attorney. She left instructions to contact you. I want to invite you to my office. It’s important.”
I didn’t even make it to a chair. I sat straight down on the kitchen floor like someone had cut the strings holding me up.
Charlotte. I hadn’t heard her name in 30 years!
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