The morning had started with a phone call.
Aunt Estella's voice was hoarse, apologetic. A fever. "I can still come," she'd said, and Arianne could hear the rustle of blankets, the effort of sitting up. "The twins need someone."
"You need rest."
"I've managed worse." The elder woman insisted.
"I know. Rest anyway."
There was a pause on the line. Aunt Estella had been with her for decades. She never took sick days. But her voice was rough, and Arianne could hear the exhaustion in it.
"I'll handle the twins," Arianne said. "I'll bring them to the office."
Mira was off. Gio was handling a task Arianne had assigned him — something that couldn't be rescheduled. There was no one else.
She picked the twins up from school at mid-morning and brought them to work.
