“I’m glad you boys were able to sort out your issues,” Abuela said, arranging plastic containers of food into a bag.
“Buenos días, Abuela,” a young girl interrupted, climbing down the stairs.
“How are you doing, mija?” Abuela spared her a quick glance before resuming what she was doing. “I was knocking on your door to call you down for dinner last night.”
“I ate at the school cafeteria,” the girl answered, walking past them.
Lucien’s gaze followed her. She was wearing a black hoodie and multicoloured pajama pants, and she looked to be around the same age as Sara, his sister.
She walked straight to the fridge, pulled it open, paused, and groaned.
“We’re out of milk, Abuela. I went to the store yesterday. You could have told me,” she complained, shutting the fridge door.
“Muchacha, do
