A smile crossed her face. She didn’t think about it; she didn’t need to. This time, though, his appearance, his steps were different. She studied ...is face. No worry, no sadness, no concern was evident. There was something, though.Carefully watching his face, “Our girl get off, okay?”“Yes.” He stopped in front of her. “Can we talk?”She put her feet on the floor and the book on the side table. She straightened her dress and patted the sofa next to her. “Are you okay?”“Sylvia … I need to say. ”“When?”“I don’t know.”“Then how do you know I’ve said it before?”“I just do.”“You could be making it up.”“I’m not.”“How do I know that?”“I don’t know.”“If you don’t know, then who does?”“What does it matter?”“Because I want to know.” Penelope steps forward and glares down at the cat, pointing a finger in her face. “I don’t think I can trust your word.”“Well, you’re going to have to,” Hazel hisses. “And get your finger out of my face.”“Or what?”“I’ll bite it.”“No you won’t.”“Yes, I will.”“Then. More

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