“What are you doing up?” Juliette put both hands on Eve’s shoulders after nearly running into her on the dimly lit staircase.
Eve wiped her cheek where mascara dribbled down her face like an oil spill. “Nothing. I was just thirsty.”
Juliette squinted. Something was wrong besides the smeared makeup. “Aren’t those Kennedy’s clothes?”
Eve shoved Juliette’s hands away. Shouldering past, she vaulted up the steps. Juliette spun around and just barely caught her wrist. “I’m not angry, sweetie. I just want to know what’s going on.”
Eve yanked her hand free and mumbled something. The only word Juliette could make out was alone. Her experience raising one moody teenage daughter kept her from following Eve up the stairs. “It’s always something,” she muttered to herself. Brushing her hair with her
