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“We’ll talk about this later,” I tell Mosely, sticking up a finger in warning.
Since my niece should be in school and won’t have access to a phone, I call Lucy instead. The elevator doors open as my sister picks up.
“What a rare and shocking surprise!” Lucy croons. “I thought you’d forgotten my number.”
“Hey, Luce.”
I walk forward and notice the thick double doors in the distance. The fashion show is just inside, and the music is so loud that I hustle in the opposite direction to get some quiet.
Mosely starts to follow me, but I gesture for him to go inside first.
Once I can hear more clearly, I ask my sister, “Has Talia been in any trouble lately?”
“What do you mean?”
I hesitate. As far as I know, Lucy is unaware about our watches’ connectivity. I don’t want to spill the beans unless I have to.
“Has her mood been off? Is she having problems at school?”
“Are you kidding? My daughter has a busier social life than I do. If she’s not at that farmhouse, she’s going to piano classes with Niko.” Lucy scoffs. “I can afford to hire a Sazuki-level piano instructor and Talia would rather get afreelesson from that foundation. It’s ludicrous!”
I hurry her along. “So you’re telling me that Talia’s okay?”
“She’s thriving.”
“And what about her nanny? Is she trustworthy?”
“Nope.”
“What?” I grip the phone tighter, already imagining all the horrible things the nanny might be doing to cause Talia to use the watch so often.
“The nanny eats way too much cheese and non-alcoholic champagne and also binges soapy cowboy TV shows until twelve a.m.”
I stop short. “That’s strangely specific. Who’s the nanny? What agency did you use to find her?”
“I got her from the same place where mom and dad got you,” Lucy says.
My brows furrow.
“It’s me,” my sister says proudly. “And everything over here is fine.”
“Define ‘fine’.”
“I’m telling you that there are no panties on fire or nannies locked in closets to report. Talia actually listens the first time… okay the third time when I tell her something. And I only get minimal smack talk. Which is saint-level behavior from her. It’s likeshe’sthe one who went to rehab. Although, my therapist did say that once I take authority over my life, every area will improve. Including mothering—”
“That’s great, Luce. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Wait! Dare, have you eaten today?”
“Yes, I have.” A giant lie. “I gotta go, okay? Later.” I hang up. A bit rude, even for me. But I can’t shake this feeling that I should investigate the watch. Those flashes mean something. Something important.
I study the lights on the edge of the device.
It’s stopped blinking.
Does that mean Talia’s okay now or that she’s given up on contacting me because she thinks I won’t come to her rescue?
This won’t do.
