Her cell phone buzzes—thank God Irina knows about this crap, it’s finally just a buzz—and she flips it open, still striding down the hall. “Kat’s Cradle Design.” “Kat Peterson? This is Angelica from the caterer. Just confirming your guest list of two hundred twenty people—” Kat stops in midstride and growls into the phone. “One hundred twenty. Not two hundred twenty.” “Hmm, right here in my notes it says—” “Well, that’s why they have these confirmation calls. We have confirmation for one hundred twenty only.” “What am I going to do with shrimp cocktail for an extra hundred people?” “Not my problem.” Kat snaps the phone shut and bellows through the house. “Mom! Come on! We’re late for your hair appointment!” Mira shows up, nearly floating out of her study, a goofy smile plastered across her face. If she didn’t know better, Kat would think she’d gotten laid. “Let’s go, Mom, those people are waiting for us. Oh God, what’s that smell?”
