“You seem to be whipping this place into shape.” “Well,” she puts a hand to her chest, blushing, “I’m not his first choice. I’m sure you know.” At Killian’s non-committal hum, some of the seductive artifice melts away. Quietly, she asks, “How is she? The girls still ask about her.” “She’s fine,” is his stiff response, and I glance between, wondering who they’re talking about. “I’ve already told your girls they can write to her, but she’s not coming back. She’s happy where she is.” In a low mutter, he adds, “For once.”
