Victoria, always her hospitable self, put Jordan, Mia, Cindi, and Tristan up at one of the many condos she owned in the Garden District. Jamison stayed with Victoria at her condo in the French Quarter. The antique grandfather clock in the foyer of the condo had just struck noon, the chime resonating through the condo when Mia stepped off the last step of the spiral staircase leading from the bedrooms. “Morning, Cin.” Mia smiled even though she looked exhausted. It ripped Cindi wide open with concern to see her best friend look so tired. “You’re looking pretty rough this morning, girlfriend.” Cindi set the newspaper she’d had tucked under her arm onto the coffee table. “Didn’t sleep very good last night, did you?” Mia winced and then swept her long dark-brown hair over her shoulder and plopped down on the sofa next to Cindi. “How’d you know?” “You look like shit.
