Lisa seemed to want to say something else, but her sister let it go. “You know, you could do worse than Armie.”

She wasn’t sure how. Getting involved with a gorgeous man who was sure to break her heart when she was trying to build a business and a new life for herself seemed like pretty much the worst thing she could do. “I’m not here to socialize.”

She fit the key in the door. It was time to see how much trouble she’d bought for herself.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Lisa was saying as the door opened. “This isn’t Dallas.”

Precisely why she was here. Papillon was about as far as she could get from Dallas and still be close to her family. When she’d decided on a new start, she hadn’t been able to give up being close to at least one of her siblings. She’d thought it through. Laurel had a baby. She’d come through it like a champ, and her brother’s wife, Bridget, had given birth twice. They both had access to good healthcare. Lisa was out here alone. If her big Cajun husband wasn’t packing some hefty swimmers, she would eat her Louis Vuitton handbag. Lisa would get pregnant at some point, and Lila wasn’t leaving her care to anyone but her. “I’m well aware this isn’t Dallas.”

She got the door open and stepped into the fifties. At least she was pretty sure that was when every piece of furniture had been bought. The newspapers, though, looked like they came from every week of the last fifty years.

“Sorry about the papers.” Lisa maneuvered her way around the first of what looked like fifty stacks. “Like I said, the place isn’t dirty, per se. Just cluttered. He liked newspapers and magazines. And books. Lots of books. There’s also a closet full of buttons. No idea why, but we were told not to open that one. I wasn’t talking about physical differences. I was talking about fitting in. I’m not sure if you know it, but sometimes you can be intimidating.”

Often in the ER a little intimidation went a long way. “I can’t help how other people react to me. I do my job and I do it well.”

“See, right there. Intimidating.”

She managed to make it to the living room. It was better in here, but the place was covered in tchotchkes. Every available space was littered with snow globes and stuffed animals with the names of various monuments stitched on them. There were commemorative plates and spoons and thimbles.

At least the sofa looked fairly comfy. “Again, I’m not seeing the problem.”