Kristina tilts her head. “Is she in danger?”
“Not anymore.”
My sisters exchange a look. They’ve always been able to communicate without words, a skill that used to drive me crazy when we were younger. It still does.
“Fine,” Anya concedes. “We’ll get the full story eventually. For now, where can I set up?”
“The living room should work. I’ll go wake her.”
I head down the hallway to the guest room, pausing outside the door. I can hear movement inside. Water running, then stopping. She’s already awake.
I knock. “Kirsten. My sisters are here.”
A muffled response. Something that sounds like “already?”
“They’re eager to meet you.”
The door opens a crack. Kirsten peers out at me. Her hair is still damp, and her face has been freshly scrubbed. She looks younger without makeup.
“I thought you said morning,” she accuses.
“It is morning.”
“It’s nine o’clock.”
“That’s morning.”
She mutters something under her breath that I don’t quite catch, though I suspect it’s unflattering. “Give me ten minutes.”
The door closes in my face.
I return to the living room, where Anya has already unzipped several garment bags and is arranging dresses across the furniture. Kristina stands by the window, taking in the view.
“She seems friendly,” Anya observes dryly.
“She’s adjusting to a lot of changes.”
“I can imagine.” Kristina turns from the window. “Menlow, you know we’ll support whatever you’re doing. We always have. But this seems… unlike you.”
“It was necessary.”
“And why is that?”
Before I can answer, footsteps sound in the hallway. All three of us turn as Kirsten appears.
She’s dressed simply. Jeans and a sweater, her damp hair pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup, no jewelry, nothing to hide behind. She looks like she’s bracing for an interrogation.
“Hi.” Anya steps forward with a warm smile, extending her hand. “I’m Anya. The loud one.”
Kirsten accepts the handshake. “Kirsten.”
“And I’m Kristina.” My younger sister approaches more slowly, her manner gentler. “The quiet one, apparently. Though that’s only by comparison.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.” Kirsten’s voice is polite but guarded. “I appreciate you coming to help.”
“Are you kidding? This is the most exciting thing that’s happened all month.” Anya gestures to the array of dresses. “When Menlow called and said he needed outfits for his wife, I nearly dropped my phone. He’s never so much as brought a girlfriend to Sunday dinner, and suddenly he’s married?”
“Anya.” My tone carries a warning.
