OLIVIA’S POV
It was Friday when I was reading. I heard the doorbell from my room. Heard the staff answer it. I heard the particular quality of a voice in the entrance hall that I recognized before I had consciously placed it.
I set my book down.
Sat very still for a moment.
Then I got up and went to the mirror and looked at myself for a second. Not checking my appearance. Just grounding myself. Reminding myself of the woman in the reflection before going downstairs.
She was still there. That was good.
I went down.
Camille was in the entrance hall when I reached the bottom of the stairs. Cream coat again. Different bag. The same practiced arrangement of herself that managed to look effortless from a distance and revealed its effort up close.
She looked up when she heard me on the st
