“They’re fosters. I found out about them through Mrs. W.” By this point, the corgi in her lap had curled up and fallen asleep, nestling against her like a furry baby.

Luke’s mouth twitched. “We’re going to end up keeping that one, aren’t we?”

She cuddled the dog closer. “That’s a safe bet,” she agreed, smiling unrepentantly.

He sighed and scratched the two resting on top of him under their chins. It’s not like he hadn’t already been considering it. “What about the rest of them, though?”

“I have information for how to sign up to be a foster if the guests are interested. They can’t take one home today, but they can get started on the arrangements.” She grinned. “And we can always bring more of these cuties back again next time.”

“Next time, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s focus on getting through this time first.”

“You’re mad about the talent show.” His sister cut to the chase.

“You know how I feel about unexpected changes.” Luke forced himself to remain calm. His earlier frustration had eased a bit during their conversation, and it was hard to be angry while petting a warm, wiggling ball of fluff. “Arranging for an afternoon cuddling some dogs is one thing, but a talent show? That’s an entire production.”

“Before you reach for your security blanket and start scribbling in your notebook of doom, hear me out,” Penelope said.

Luke realized he hadn’t even thought to get out his notebook. In fact, he hadn’t thought about his notebook in days. Not since the paintball game. “Don’t worry,” he said, hearing the disbelief in his own voice. “I don’t even have it with me.”

Penelope gave him a side-eye full of Who even are you?, but she let it slide. “I admit, at first, when Mrs. W. told me what she wanted to do, I wasn’t sure of the idea myself.” His sister grinned. “I can never decide if her eccentricity is brilliantly bananas or just bananas.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing,” he admitted. “That woman really needs to stop introducing new ideas into the mix on a whim.”

“That woman signs our paychecks,” Penelope pointed out. “And it’s our job to create the experience she envisions.”

“But you can’t spontaneously introduce new data and expect the program to run without a glitch,” he grumbled.

“I recall you once telling me there will always be glitches.” His sister smiled encouragingly. “What is it you like to say? ‘Nothing is ever perfect. But things can be—’”

“Imperfectly perfect,” Luke finished, flushing. Those were his own words. He wasn’t lying when he told Julia he believed that. It’s not like his sister knew about his private conversation. Still, it didn’t stop him from feeling exposed. “Was this the secret plan you’ve been sneaking off to discuss with Mrs. W. all the time?”