"What do you want anyway?" she then asked as I slipped past her into her bedroom and sat down on her bed.I was still trying to figure out my best cour...e of action when she added, "And I don't want to hear one question about Philip. Not one! Do you understand?" Her words had given me my opening."Hah! It's always about you isn't it? Always about Katrina! Even though you're the smart, beautiful one. The favorite," I accused angrily. Perhaps the least fair thing I'd ever said to sis. I hated. It had been for days, and while Camille greatly enjoyed the way it made Central Park look peacefully pale beneath the snowy veil, it meant that she was perpetually chilly—Alistair had never developed a tolerance for heat whatsoever, and keeping their lovely home above sixty degrees at any point saw the poor man sitting in his recliner and sweating profusely. But then, it made for mornings like this: she’d already made herself breakfast, had her coffee and decided that, since there was nothing. More

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