“You don’t need to wait on me like I’m a houseguest,” Kat insisted. “I can put the teakettle on to boil.” Still, Susan fussed. “I just want you to rest that foot. You need it to heal, if you’re going to get back to New York. Does it still hurt a lot?” Kat shrugged. She didn’t pay a lot of attention to pain. It was all part of her job. She took down two teacups and matching saucers, enjoying the look of the old-fashioned china that had once belonged to her grandmother. “Don’t worry about me,” she chided Susan. “You have enough on your plate.” “Your father looks so much better. I cannot tell you how much it means, that he’s finally able to get a full night’s sleep. Jenny is a sweetheart—she’s so excited to be reading a book to her Pop-pop right now. But she is a busy child.” Busy was one word for her. Spoiled rotten was another. Kat was tired of playing policewoman, constantly telling her niece what to do and what not to do. Just the night before, Kat had caught herself complaining to Haley, saying that Jenny had been raised by wolves.
