The dark blanket of night had yet to fade when the alarm went off in the Crawford household, almost simultaneously in the master bedroom and the guest room.
Kathleen Crawford woke up before the second chime, her hand swiftly silencing the sound. Sleep vanished from her pale greenish-black eyes in an instant, replaced by a gleam of anticipation.
A soft smile stretched across her face. Today was a special day. Her son, Alex, and his two dear friends were coming home after a month away, and as planned with Irina, they would be greeted with their favorite feast.
Without delay, Kathleen swung her legs from the bed and padded into the attached washroom. The faint hum of running water and the scent of mint soap filled the quiet air.
When she emerged sometime later, she was dressed in a modest navy-blue dress, a light touch of makeup accentuating her natural poise. Her flowly dark hair had been brushed neatly, tucked behind her ears, and a small silver locket hung at her throat.
