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A distant male voice asked, "Tracy Whitney?"
She hesitated. If this was an obscene phone call... "Who is this?"
"This is Lieutenant Miller of the New Orleans Police Department. Is this Tracy Whitney?"
"Yes." Her heart began to pound.
"I'm afraid I have bad news for you."
Her hand clenched around the phone.
"It's about your mother."
"Has--- has Mother been in some kind of accident?"
"She's dead,marlboro cigarettes, Miss Whitney."
"No,newport menthol cigarettes!" It was a scream. This was an obscene phone call. Some crank trying to frighten her. There was nothing wrong with her mother. Her mother was alive. I love you very, very much,wholesale newports, Tracy.
"I hate to break it to you this way," the voice said.
It was real. It was a nightmare, but it was happening. She could not speak. Her mind and her tongue were frozen.
The lieutenant's voice was saying,cheap newports, "Hello...? Miss Whitney? Hello...?"
"I'll be on the first plane."
She sat in the tiny kitchen of her apartment thinking about her mother. It was impossible that she was dead. She had always been so vibrant,cheap marlboro cigarettes online032, so alive. They had had such a close and loving relationship. From the time Tracy was a small girl,wholesale newport cigarettes, she had been able to go to her mother with her problems,marlboro cigarettes online, to discuss school and boys and,newport 100s stamp, later, men. When Tracy's father had died,marlboro gold pack, many overtures had been made by people who wanted to buy the business. They had offered Doris Whitney enough money so that she could have lived well for the rest of her life, but she had stubbornly refused to sell. "Your father built up this business. I can't throw away all his hard work." And she had kept the business flourishing.