Ash nodded and mumbled something and then turned to Truman. “This is Truman. He’s the one who—”

“You’re the one who house-swapped with my little sister,” she said, eyebrow raised. “Sadie Russakoff.” She stuck out a hand with a bloodred manicure.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, hi. I’m Truman, from New Orleans.”

Sadie Russakoff gazed at him steadily, like she was reading some kind of usage instructions only she could see. Her grip was overly firm, like she was used to having to prove herself, and her hands were soft.

“So what’s New Orleans like?” she said finally.

Truman, tongue-tied and convinced that Greta’s sister already hated him, replied, “Um, warm.”

“That sounds nice right now,” Sadie said, cocking her head to the snowy outdoors. “Ash, I want to grab a bouquet of those purplish-gray roses you sold me last month?”

“Sure.”

Ash ducked into the back room, leaving Truman with Sadie.

“So…” he began.

But before he had a chance to think of any small talk, Sadie said, “Is Greta okay?”

“Uh. As far as I know, yeah.”

“She just left. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going. We could have heard about a plane crashing and not even known she was on it.”

Sadie’s expression was tight, her voice intense.

“Um, she definitely didn’t die in a plane crash. If that helps,” he finished weakly.

Relief, irritation, and temper warred on her face.

Even without remembering which sister Greta had said was responsible for volunteering her at the Holiday Carnival, Truman felt pretty sure it was Sadie. He could practically feel the desire to rant about Greta emanating from her.

Truman wished he were confrontational. He wished he were the type of person to say, “Oh, and you’re her big sister who purposely did a shitty and homophobic thing that you knew she’d hate just because you could. I wonder why she left town at Chanukah.”

But if Truman had been that person, he would also have marched up to Guy’s front door in the Garden District, rung the bell, and announced loudly to Guy’s partner/husband that he was being betrayed.

And he hadn’t.

He wasn’t.

Truman searched his brain for words and what came out was “So, um, who are the flowers for?”

Sadie’s smile was ice cold.

“Me.”

“Oh, cool. Awesome. That’s…yeah, I like flowers too. Wonder why I don’t get them to have around. Maybe I should get some for my place—er, your sister, uh, Greta’s place. Um.”

Sadie raised her eyebrows and gave him a tight-lipped smile that was just the barest flex of her lips and said clearly I don’t care what you do because you made me experience a moment of self-consciousness and I didn’t like it. She took her phone and occupied herself with ignoring Truman until Ash returned with her roses.