At eight in the morning a black sedan sat idling by the double garage doors.

Chloe came down the back steps first, dragging a heavy silver overnight bag across the concrete.

“We’re staying through Sunday if the facial appointments run long,” Chloe said.

Tiffany came out three steps behind her, pushing a pair of oversized sunglasses up onto her forehead.

She dropped her car keys into her coat pocket and stopped two feet from where I stood at the porch rail.

“You look like you didn’t sleep one minute,” Tiffany said, with a sweet lilt.