Moistening my lips, I searched the menu, noticing it had changed. Subtle modifications. Prices, a few additional appetizers, and more desserts. I studied the pasta offerings, wondering what I’d liked best. Hard to say, these days. My taste buds had been MIA since the accident, another lingering souvenir of the head trauma. Maybe I’d stick with the crunchy fries.

Brit stepped into the small room, wearing a leather jacket and a navy jumper that flared above her ankles, skimmed her narrow waist, and rose to a halter top that hugged full breasts. Straight dyed blond hair skimmed her shoulders, highlighting an angled face, red lips, and bold smoky eyes.

The effect was very attractive. In fact, as I rose, I noticed my sister had lost a couple of pounds. Perhaps rumors of the new boyfriend were legit. Brit held a square box wrapped in silver paper and adorned with an ice-blue bow. No clowns yet, thank God.

My sister looked a little frustrated, which had been her signature expression since she was a kid. Put upon. Doing the best, given the limited resources.

“I was supposed to be here first,” Brit said.

After moving around the table, I hugged her and drew in the familiar scent of Chanel perfume and hair spray. “You look terrific. Losing weight?”

Brit stifled a grin. “Think so?”

“I know so.”

“Thanks. That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

Brit captured a short red strand of my hair between manicured fingers. “Very stylish. Very edgy.”

“That’s me, edgy.”

“Are you sleeping well?” Brit asked. “You look tired.”

“I’m great.” I refused to sound annoyed. Brit had self-identified as a mother hen since our mother died. I shouldn’t have blamed her. She didn’t want the role. “What’s in the box?”

She grinned. “That’s for later, when everyone gets here.”

“Everyone. I see the six hats. Wizard of Oz?”

“It was your favorite movie when you were little.”

Was it? But I’d watched millions of movies when I was a kid. I still did. “Okay.”

“You promised me free rein over the party. No questions asked.”

“You’re right.” I grinned. “But I wouldn’t say no to a hint.”

A teasing smile proved she loved keeping secrets. “I won’t give you one.”

“Please.” A little begging always put her in a good mood.

“Not one.” Brit took off her jacket. “Don’t look like you’re facing a firing squad, M. It’ll be fun.”

“You’re right.” Attitude was everything.

“Wait no longer.” A familiar deep voice resonated behind me, and when I turned, I found a smile.

I was a little surprised Brit had invited him. “Kurt Markman.”