It was a much larger apartment than she had expected, with soothing walls of creamy stucco. A dim hallway stretched from the front door toward a spacious living room. Large, multipaned glass doors dominated its rear wall beyond which was a tiled courtyard and a fountain.
One of the living room walls was entirely lined with orderly wooden bookshelves. On the other hung two massive black and white portraits. One was of Grace Kelly, the other, Amira’s mother.
“There is something about your mother I suspect you don’t know, or at least you may not be entirely aware of. Would you care for me to share this with you?”
