Of course, I should have known. Denise was a miniature of Francesca; except the part of course where her hair was tied in a ponytail instead of a bun and she was wearing a leather jacket instead of a corporate suit. But other than that, they looked exactly the same, even to the way they set their eyes intently on you in that “I’ve got the fire in me” manner and made you feel a little uncomfortable.
“Let’s all go get settled down,” said grandpa Blake and all our visitors moved out of the room. Well, all of them except Denise; the little Miss Firewalt still hadn’t moved a muscle from where she stood since she entered to Victor’s introduction.
“Hi Denise, I’m Troy Sanders,” I said to her, offering a handshake and a friendly smile as I did.
“So you’re the Troy Sanders,” she replied, giving
