Camellia greeted her wearing wide-legged trousers and a creamy cashmere sweater, her growing hair pulled into a messy chignon. She was embarrassed, to say the least, to have Shelby see where she lived, but she and Henry had agreed to wait until spring before they started looking for their own home – both understandably concerned about what might be hidden under several inches of snow. “Your house is adorable!” Shelby exclaimed, looking around. “No way! We have the same couch!” “Imagine that,” Camellia said, taking Shelby’s puffy parka and hanging it on the coat rack. “It’s a rental. None of the furniture is ours, actually.” “Bummer,” Shelby said. She looked unsure of herself, standing in the middle of the living room, her hands intertwined as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “So, what do we do first?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Let’s start with posture.”
