The house doesn’tquiet when Charlie steps outside.
The moment the door closes behind him, the energy in the room shifts—subtle at first, then unmistakable. Chairs scrape. Glasses clink. Then laughter builds, slowly but surely.
Music starts playing but still, I feel it before I see them. I take a sip of my drink from a woman who introduced herself as Jilly handed to me, buying myself a second.
Or so I thought.
The oldest Freemans descend on me. All of them wearing expressions that range between unholy to delighted to determined. Judging by the gleam in their eyes, I’m fairly certain they already like me.
Which might be worse.
“So,” Emily smiles like she’s asking about the weather, “what size dress do you wear?”
I choke. Just a little. “I—what?”
Alison jumps in. “And what style do you like the best?”
Corinna tilts her head. “We keep a lot in stock since sample sizes are cruel.”
Phil grins like he knows exactly what’s happening—adds, “We just like to be prepared.”
“Prepared. For what, exactly? A natural disaster? A heist? A hostile takeover?”
They all burst into laughter. Cassidy reaches out and squeezes my arm. “They have a lot less chaos, unfortunately.”
“Are there wrong answers? Am I being graded?”
“Oh no,” Emily says breezily. “This is just curiosity.”
“Purely academic,” Alison adds.
“Academic my ass,” Holly yells from the kitchen.
I glance over and spot her perched on the kitchen counter, camera already in hand, lens trained directly on me. She grins when she catches my eye. “Don’t mind me,” she says. “I’m just documenting… whatever this is.”
My pulse picks up. “Okay,” I say slowly, setting my empty glass down. “Why are you asking about my dress size?”
They exchange looks. Quick. Loaded.
“Well,” Jilly says breezily. Married to Holly’s husband’s boss, she’s a close friend of the family. After handing me a refilled drink, she says, “You never know.”
“Know what?”
“When things are needed,” another voice intrudes.
Unfortunately, I’d just taken a sip when I realize who spoke. Choking, I manage, “Oh, god. You’re Kee Long.”
“Call me Kelsey. It’s my real name,” my literary idol replies as she whacks me on the back.
“Right,” I manage faintly, praying I don’t pass out before Charlie gets back. Then I shake some sense into myself. “Wait. What things?”
“Rhoswen, just trust us.” Phil says gently, as if addressing a skittish animal. “By the way, what are your favorite flowers?”
I stare at him like he might be a rabid Highland cow—unpredictable but still adorable. “Sunflowers and peonies.”
A flash goes off. Holly announces, “Got a great one. Totally Christmas worthy for next year.”
“Christmas? Next year?”Did we just skip three hundred and fifty-ish days in an unexplained time warp?
