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I think of what Max wore to the restaurant the other day. The white T-shirt and sweats. They looked like his go-to clothing. There’s no reason I shouldn’t wear my normal clothes too.

“Exactly. You need to show you put in at least a shred of effort. He’s a Brit, K. Their definition of casual involves something like a collared shirt, crewneck sweater, and shoes that aren’t sneakers. You know that.”

Okay, fine. I’ll give her that. I’ve seen enough of Theo and BBC dramas to know she’s got a point.

“Do I even want to see outfit number three?” she says. “I’m afraid to ask. What is it?”

I angle the camera toward the far corner of the bed. “The suit my mom made me buy for ‘professional opportunities.’”

“You go from one extreme to the next.” Zoe sighs, setting her phone down so I have a perfect view of her ceiling fan. “The suit is an improvement, but don’t you have a single dress that isn’t a tennis dress?”

“Just the emerald one I wore last night. And I know you won’t let me wear it again.”

“Keller, you’re killing me.” Zoe’s face reappears. She takes a long, measured breath. “Okay, here’s the plan. While I make coffee and shower, you’re going to come over and raid my closet. You’ll change, I’ll do something with your hair, and then you’ll head to the Glass Arboretum.”

“Zoe,” I protest, the panic rising. “I just wanted advice, not to play Barbie.”

“Well, too bad. You called the expert. Now you get the tough-love approach.” She starts walking toward her kitchen, the camera bouncing. “Get going. Traffic on the I-4 is going to be a nightmare.”

“Do I have time to make my recovery smoothie?” I ask, already reaching for my keys.

“I’ll have it ready for you when you walk in. The usual—supergreens, protein powder, and berries?”

“Yes, please. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m a saint. See you in thirty.” Zoe gives the camera a wink before the screen goes black.

I grab my wallet, phone, and keys, and rush out toward the car.

“Katie? Is that you?” Aunt Sarah’s voice drifts through the porch screen door.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I grunt, slowing my pace.

I really don’t have time for a chitchat. But she’s my aunt, and my landlady. In this backyard, those roles mean you don’t just wave and keep walking. I detour into the kitchen, where she’s perched at the table behind her laptop. She has the same light-brown hair and steady eyes as my dad, her older brother, but her energy is entirely different. She’s a free spirit.

“It’s good to see you dear. How’s everything going?”

“Same old, same old. Just keeping busy with work and training.”

She nods, clicking through a few more tabs before looking up with a bright, practiced smile. “Aaron’s coming down from Gainesville for the weekend. He landed an internship with Patel Marketing. They’re one of the top firms in the state, you know,” she says, her voice thick with pride for my cousin. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast tomorrow? It’d be nice to have the whole family together.”

She phrases it like a request, but in reality, it’s a mandate. Especially when it involves Aaron.

“I’d love to. What time?”

“Ten. We’re going to Pippa’s Garden, so if you come here by nine, we can drive over together.”

“Sounds great,” I manage to say, my voice only slightly strained.

At least I’ll have something decent to wear to brunch thanks to Zoe’s impending fashion intervention.

“If that’s all, I’ll see you then.” I start toward the car again.

“Oh, Katie dear, actually, there is one more thing,” Aunt Sarah calls out. “Did Joe mention that we have contractors coming by on Monday?”

“Con. . .contractors?” I sputter.

“So that’s a no. He didn’t.” She sighs, removing her reading glasses. She turns and faces me. “They’ll need access to the pool house to take some measurements for the kitchen and bathroom upgrades. It’ll take about ten minutes, tops. You don’t need to be here, but if you could make sure it’s tidy, that’d be great.”