3
Safe Spaces
Miranda
Simon’s instructions were clear enough that I didn’t have any trouble finding the kitchen, vast as the house appeared to be. Even the kitchen was something to behold, with an eat-in area that was bigger than the dining room in our Flagstaff house, and an enormous six-burner stove and what appeared to be miles of pale granite countertops. Simon was in there already, standing in front of the massive built-in stainless refrigerator. The door was open as he appeared to survey the contents of the fridge.
However, he shut the door when he heard me approach, and offered me a smile. “Settled in?”
“Mostly,” I replied. I had finally stirred myself to hang up my clothes — mostly because I didn’t want them to get too wrinkled — but I’d only dumped my toiletries on the counte
