Emma was scrubbing the toilet when the doorbell rang. She
glanced in the mirror on her way out, taking in her rosy cheeks and the damp
hair that clung to her temples. She thought about reapplying her lipstick, but
a second ring pulled her to the door.
Darren stood grinning on the porch, a briefcase under one
arm and a Starbucks cup in each hand. “What, no broom today? I think we’re
making progress.”
“All I had handy was a toilet plunger. Hardly
intimidating.”
“Hardly. Well, are you going to let me in?”
