Count to three. Do not kill your boss.
And do not fall in love with him.
That's a good start, especially when you work for New York's most eligible bachelor with millions in one pocket and half of Manhattan's panties in the other. Not to mention tho...
"I can give you the right books, teach you the right spells, but that last one percent, that's up to you."
Jonathan Barnavelt, The House with a Clock in Its Walls (2018)
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"Hello?" I call into the empty hall of my parent's house and take my keys out of the lock to close the door. Amber, my older sister, walks out of the living room, a low ponytail of her short sandy hair swaying on her neck. "God, why is it so cold in here?" I shudder as I take off my jacket.
"Beth tried to discover her hidden baking skills," Amber replies, closing the high hall windows.
"What made her think she had any?"
"I don't know. What made her think she could use a sewing machine?" Amber echoes back, referring to our little sister's escapade last week.
"Oh, right. How is her finger?"
"She's setting the house on fire. I'd say it's fine."
I smile. I make my way to the kitchen, where the wonderful smell from the pot mingles with the remaining itchy hint of something that has nothing to do with food anymore, finding my younger sister right at the crime scene.
Bethany is wiping the kitchen island, looking like some weird version of a housewife in that plaid shirt and messy bun of light copper hair and lots of strands loose around her face. Which she definitely isn't.
"Hey," I greet her. "You didn't want to burn down the dorms, so you came here?"
"Ugh, please. Not you, too," she groans wearily and throws the wet cloth on the kitchen counter. "I've heard enough of it today."
I chuckle and observe the black baking tray lying next to the sink. I think it used to be brown? "So, what was that supposed to be before it turned to ashes?"
Beth sighs and waves her hand toward it. "Ginger brown sugar cookies."
"Ginger?" I twist my face in disgust. "Gross. At least try something I eat when I have to be freezing here. You know, just in case you don't mess it up and it's actually edible."
"Don't worry, I'm done in the kitchen today."
"They kicked you out of here?"
"Yup."
I nod. I can only imagine mom's expression when Beth started in her beloved kitchen, knowing probably very well how it was going to end.
I continue through the door into the living room, where I find Amber's whole family. She and her husband are watching Paw Patrol with little Willow on the couch, while Max in the armchair has eyes only for his iPad.
"Hello, little monsters." I grin at them and ruffle Max's hair. He stands up and tilts his head to the side, looking practically straight into my eyes. He's thirteen, but he's only a little shorter than me.
