Not with dislike.
With recognition.
My phone rang.
An unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then Maya looked at the screen and whispered, “That’s a Philippine country code.”
I answered.
For a moment, there was only static.
Then a woman spoke my name.
“David Bennett?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was faint and heavily accented, but the words were clear.
“My name is Marisol Santos.”
Maya closed her eyes.
The woman continued.
“I have been trying to reach your wife, but someone has been answering her messages for her.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. But I did not ask Maya for money.”
Maya’s eyes flew open.
“What?”
“I sent warnings,” Marisol said. “Not requests.”
“What warnings?”
There was a pause on the line.
Then she said, “About Eleanor.”
My mother’s name, spoken by a woman on the other side of the world.
I stood slowly.
“What does my mother have to do with you?”
