Eleanor's hand tightened, just slightly, around my arm. "Rosalind." Her voice had shifted, gone careful in a way I hadn't heard from her before, even during the photograph. "I didn't know you were coming today."
"Clearly." The woman, Rosalind, descended the terrace steps with an unhurried grace that made it obvious she'd grown up in houses exactly like this one. Up close, the resemblance to Eleanor sharpened further, something in the set of the jaw, the assessing quality of the eyes. "I invited myself, if you must know. You've been evasive on the phone for three weeks, and I've learned that when you're evasive, you're usually hiding something enormous."
"Rosalind is my sister," Eleanor said, turning to me, her voice carefully even, though I could feel the tension radiating off her. "Jasm
