I can’t help but smile. “She did save me from a kidnapping earlier.”
Muriel nods. “That’s how we found out we should come out here to protest. The boys called and said they lost you in the airport.”
I assume ‘the boys’ are Leo, Brewser, and Wilson.
Nora sighs. “Everyone, this very nice man, who is moving his whole life clear across the country tohelp us, is Alex Olsen. Please say hello.”
“Hello, Alex,” Muriel says.
“Hi, nice to meet you.” I suppose that’s what I should say.
“For the record,” George says, moving in next to Muriel and extending his hand, “I’m here because Patty and Muriel needed a ride. I look forward to seeing you play.”
“Noted,” I say, shaking his hand. “Thanks.” I’m just going to assume George’s sign was the “No Justice, No Peace” and that he grabbed it reluctantly at the last second.
“Oh my God,” Nora says, rolling her eyes. “You all need to go home. And take those signs out of the bushes andthrow them away.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” Patty says.
“Sure, sure,” Muriel agrees. “And we’ll see you at walking club tomorrow morning.”
“Of course.” Nora then proceeds to hug each of them before they grab their signs and head for their cars.
“So…wow,” I say.
“I’m so sorry.” She grimaces.
“I’m going to write a very strongly worded email to the Parks and Rec department about the Protest Club,” I tell her.
That finally gets a smile. “Yes, do that.” She glances in their direction. “I have to admit, they did pretty good on the signs with such little notice.”
“You don’t think they had them made and were just waiting for a chance to use them?” I tease.
Her smile dies though and she groans.
Oh, damn, I didn’t think that was actually a possibility.
“Let’s go see what Astrid wants,” I suggest. Maybe my sister can take Nora’s mind off of the less-than-warm welcome Rebel has given me so far.
“Yes. Let’s.”
Nora leads me into the building and to the elevators that take us up to the top floor where the offices are located.
“Alex!” My sister bolts out of her white leather office chair from behind her white wooden desk and launches herself into my arms as we walk into her office.
“Hey, sis.” I catch her around the waist and hug her tightly.
It’s so nice to have a familiar face here. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that until this moment, and I give her an extra-long squeeze.
Astrid and I don’t look much like siblings. Her petite gymnast’s frame next to my big hockey-player body has been commented on in the sports media several times. Our older sister, Linnea, and I also took after our dad with our dark hair and eyes, while Astrid is the spitting image of our blond, blue-eyed mother.
But despite our physical differences, Astrid and I have a lot in common. Besides blood and a family tree, we were both raised to be world-class athletes from a very young age and were sent to the US to fulfill the dreams of not just our family, but our entire country.
We’re both dual citizens of the US and Cara, the tiny island nation at the southernmost end of the Faroe Islands. Until Astrid and I landed on the world stage, most people couldn’t have found us on a map, and even now, it’s mostly the sporting communities that know that Cara is an independent country with its own ruling royal family. But we’ve succeeded in bringing recognition to our country, and we’ve made our family proud.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says, beaming up at me as I set her back on the floor.
“That makes one person in this town,” I say dryly.
