Something rustled through a collection of potted ferns.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a velociraptor,” said Stevie then added an “Ow,” as someone slapped her.

Lillian appeared at Emilia’s elbow and crouched down as a tortoise shoved its way past the nearest pot. “This is Circe.”

Lillian stroked the shell affectionately, and the tortoise bumped against her hand in a surprisingly dog-like gesture. “Someone dumped her at the clinic, and now she guards my greenhouse.”

“And eats strawberries. It’s adorable,” said Angie.

“Any idea how old she is?” Emilia asked. The tortoise’s carapace was at least a foot in diameter, maybe more.

“Not really. She’s mature, and my guess is that someone’s relative died and they didn’t know what to do with her.”

“And didn’t care enough to learn,” said Angie.

“Honestly, I’m glad. So many people think they want exotic pets without understanding the care and responsibility that goes into them.”

“Lillian is an exotics vet,” Stevie said.

Lillian stroked Circe once more, then stood. “Exotics and small animals. Morgan and I went to vet school together at Cornell. Do you garden?”

“I just had house plants back in Boston. My dad did, though. He’s got a big plot at the house I might do something with.”

“Well, if you need any seedlings, let me know. I always have extra.” Lillian pointed toward a table with trays of young plants.

“That would be incredible, actually.”

“Pick some out before you leave tonight, or come by another time.”

“They’re talking about plants,” Angie said to Stevie. “What do we do?”

Lillian gave them the middle finger with a graceful motion that belied the crude gesture, then looked past them out the window. “Oh good. She’s got the grill going.”

Emilia followed Lillian’s gaze out through the glass walls. The greenhouse bordered the backyard, forming an L between the house and the fence, and she saw Morgan shut the lid of a large grill and wave. She raised her own hand in recognition and felt her heart leap for its new home in her throat again.

“She’s seen you,” Stevie said with a pout. “Now we have to give you back.”

Morgan met Emilia’s eyes with a grin that lit up the room when Emilia reentered the kitchen. “You made it.”

“After burning some cookies. Dad’s oven is a little off.” Emilia eyed the plate. Quite a few of the cookies were already missing.

“That’s why I stick to cooking over open flame. They give you the tour?”

“The downstairs,” said Lillian.

“Not much to see upstairs anyway,” said Stevie. “Just beds and Lil’s hamster wheel.”

“It’s called a treadmill.”

“You’re a runner, too?” Emilia asked her.

“Oh no,” said Angie.

“It’s happening,” said Stevie.

In unison, they broke out in an off-key rendition of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from The Lion King.

“Let me know if you need a jogging partner,” Lillian said as she clapped her hands over her friends’ mouths. “Since I clearly don’t live with any.”