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brother. He came by earlier.”
    Right. Harrison again. She opened the envelope and everything was there. Driver’s license, credit card, debit card. Cash. Key. Gratitude wiped her out. Emptied her. The reserves she had gathered from being safe and warm were gone.
    “Come on,” Brody murmured. “You should rest.”
    She smiled with weak thanks at Darnell and let Brody take her to the elevator.
    “ ‘You should see the other guy’?” he murmured. “You must be feeling better if you’re making jokes.”
    “It’s either laugh or cry, Brody, and I’m tired of crying.” She walked past him into the old elevator and gathered herself to say goodbye. Again. She was ready to be alone, away from the constant rub of his company. She sighed, heavy and hard. “Thank you, Brody—”
    He stepped into the elevator with her and held out his hand for the envelope. Wordlessly she handed it over and he used the special key to send the elevator to the penthouse.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, crowded and off balance by his nearness. She was anticipating a very long hot shower, a good wailing cry, and a nap.
    And all of that was best done alone.
    “I told your brother I’d keep you safe. All the way.”
    “I doubt there will be any dangers in Nonnie’s apartment,” she said, leaning against the wall, because she was tired and hungry and dizzy.
    That year, ten years ago had given him such unprecedented access to the Montgomerys and he knew plenty of their dirty secrets.
    As well as the real dangers she faced.
    “Is there something you need to tell me?” she asked.
    “Your mom.” Was all he said.
    “Mom,” she breathed. She’d been wondering when her reprieve would be over. There was no chance Patty would have shown up at the hospital—that would have led to people asking questions. And if there was one thing Patty hated, it was questions.
    “Harrison texted to say she’s here. Waiting. He’s coming as fast as he can.”
    A sort of resigned dread sank into her bones, like knowing she was about to hit an iceberg but unable to change course.
    “I can handle my mother,” she lied. On her best day she could handle her mother, but this was far, far from her best day. Up till now, she’d managed to avoid self-pity, but the prospect of meeting with her mother was enough to make her want to fold up on the floor and wave the white flag.
    His eyes, watching the elevator floor numbers creep ever upward, didn’t give any indication that he heard her lie.
    The elevator stopped and the doors binged open onto a penthouse apartment that was like stepping into a strange but lovely museum. Hardwood floors glowed with warmth from the sunlight falling through the big windows. The walls were covered with dark green wallpaper, and shadow box after shadow box filled with butterfly and beetle specimens. Bookcases lined the foyer, the front hallway, and the little bit that could be seen of theliving room, and every shelf was filled with books and art and small lovely things of interest her grandmother had collected. Voodoo dolls sat next to perfume bottles. A framed Picasso sketch was on the wall, next to a photo of Ashley as a girl, feeding ducks in Central Park. Somewhere in the room there was a small monkey skeleton.
    The flocked wallpaper was starting to lift off the walls, the horsehair couches and velveteen chairs were beginning to sag, but Ashley didn’t care. When she was in the States, this was home. And in a changing world, she liked that home never changed.
    “Ashley.” Her mother’s Georgian drawl was accompanied by the sound of high heels hitting wood floor hard enough to dent. She was coming from the sitting room and Ashley closed her eyes, gathering herself.
    “We could sneak out,” Brody said.
    Her eyes flew open, stunned he’d made a joke, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was taking her coat and hanging it in the closet. Maybe she’d imagined it.
    And then suddenly, there was Mom. Wearing an impeccable