Beyond the pool was the backside of the mansion I had glimpsed. Like my little house, it was very modern with loads of glass and squared edges framed in steel and concrete. I wondered if the interior was decorated the same, because the one thing I noticed about my little house was the lack of art or color of any kind. The walls were painted a soft creamy white but were completely devoid of any pictures. At all. There wasn’t even any cheap motel art on the walls. It felt barren and bereft. Where was the art?

A door to the left led to a large bedroom and bathroom. Like the kitchen, they were immaculate. A king-size bed with a black frame, more blue-gray for the bedding, and a matching black dresser took up half the room. A small writing desk with a black leather office chair had been placed in front of the window. It was cozy and perfect, and I knew I could work quite happily here as soon as I hung up some pictures or bought some colorful pillows or possibly a throw.

Soph and I wheeled my bags into the bedroom and then headed back to the kitchen to take stock of what I would need to survive.

“The place comes with dishes and cookware, and I put some supplies for you in the cupboard this morning,” she said. I opened the surprisingly deep pantry and noted there was stuff in there.

“Oh, you didn’t have to—” I began but she interrupted.

“Please.” She held up her hand in a stop gesture. “I’ve lived with you. I know your essentials. Coffee, sugar, and your breakfast granola are in the pantry; milk, yogurt, and wine are in the refrigerator; and a couple of frozen pizzas are in the freezer just to get you started. We can hit the grocery store this weekend for a bigger supply run.”

I tipped my head as I gazed at my sister from another mister in surprise. “Look at you, momming me.”

“No. Nope. Nuh-uh,” she said. “I am not mom material. Not yet at any rate. I am merely being a fabulous boss because I don’t want you to regret coming here, and I know if you wake up without coffee first thing tomorrow, you will examine your life choices in a fit of insufficient caffeine and regret everything.”

She knew me so well. I supposed it came from years of drowning our sorrows in cheap booze and pints of ice cream after bad breakups, followed by holding each other’s hair out of the toilet while we threw up, which we then topped off by sharing the greasiest breakfasts we could find in the wee hours of the morning at some fairly sketchy city diners.