Page 59 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

Mac sat up, delighted. “I’m alive.”

“A miracle,” I said, clapping.

Mila laughed.

“Mary.” Maeve’s voice came from the patio.

I looked up.

My sister stood beside the stone steps with a mug in one hand and Mila’s tiny pink cardigan in the other. Maeve looked annoyingly good. Black hair loose around her shoulders, her green eyes bright, shiny pink lips, and her small body wrapped in a cream sweater that probably cost more than my first semester textbooks. She had a softness to her now that still surprised me sometimes. Not weakness, though. Maeve would rather eat glass. But safety looked good on her. It had settled into her bones and made a home there.

Behind her, through the open doors, I could hear Ivan laughing at something inside. Artem’s voice followed, low and dry. Somewhere deeper in the house, a dog barked. Fergus, presumably.

He was a dog that had done well. He had upgraded from living on the streets, to chomping on cheap slippers to enjoying sneaky treats. And he relished his new kingdom.

Maeve came down the steps and sat beside me on the grass, carefully avoiding a patch of soil Mila had recently attempted to redistribute.

“Mac,” she said, “take Mila inside while I talk to your aunt.”

“I’m already talking to her.”

“I want to talk about serious things.”

“I just died. That’s serious.”

Maeve glanced at me.

“Fowers. Live,” Mila added.

“Yes. Her flowers brought him back from the abyss.”

“I wasn’t dead really.” Mac retrieved the hidden car from under my cardigan and took Mila’s hand. “I’m going to tell Daddy you said we can have ice cream.”

Mila grinned. “Ohh.”

I took Maeve’s silence to mean her need to talk to me outweighed her need to stop her children raiding the freezer.

Maeve waited until they were far enough away not to listen. “You should try to find them.”

No lead-in, no gentle transition. Just my sister being my sister.

I stared at the lawn. “Good afternoon to you too.”

“It’s a good afternoon. You’ve been pretending to enjoy a children’s coup for twenty minutes.”

“I’ve been enjoying it.”

“You’ve been touching your stomach every time Mac says something adorable.”

“That’s because Mac is emotionally manipulative.”

“He’s three.”

“Exactly. Untapped potential.”

Maeve nudged my shoulder with hers. “Mary.”

I sighed. “I don’t know their last names.”