Meg parked at the side of the house, pausing to admire its frilly gingerbread and warmly glowing windows, and went around to the kitchen door, which was unlocked. Rachel wouldn’t have heard anything as quiet as a knock, immersed as she was with marshaling her two children to clean up the kitchen table so that they could start their homework. She looked up when Meg walked in. “Hi! That was fast.” Meg dropped her overnight bag by the door. “The bigwigs were still busy patting each other on the back, and I’d tried all the hors d’oeuvres, so I figured it was time to leave.” “You can tell me all about it as soon as I get these two sorted out. Chloe, please put that plate in the sink. Matthew, you get a sponge and wipe off the table. No, now! And say hello to Meg.” “Hi, Meg,” the kids mumbled dutifully in unison. “There’s a humongous casserole in the oven, and there’s bread and salad on the dining room table. You want something to drink? Wine?” “Whatever you’re having is fine.”
