I climbed the marble steps with my bag on one shoulder and my jaw set like concrete. "Juniper!" a voice called from inside, warm and practiced. "Come in, you're late." I paused on the top step and watched through the floor-to-ceiling glass. The dining room looked like a magazine spread: silverware, low light, laughing faces. Lila's laugh hit high, manufactured. Victor leaned back, smiling at something Evan said. Helen ached with hospitality, every gesture measured. A maid opened the door before I could knock. "Miss Juniper, good evening." "Thank you," I said, and let myself through. Helena moved forward with a tray of hors d'oeuvres. She checked her reflection in a polished frame, then addressed the staff. "I'm so sorry, everyone. I forgot Miss Juniper was staying with us tonight. Please, set a place." "Of course, ma'am," the maid said, flustered. I stepped toward the table. The family turned like a single organism watching me. Lila's smile thinned. "You should sit," Helena offered. Her tone had that public warmth you could rinse the mouth with. I scanned the chairs. Plates were set for six, one conspicuously empty on the sideboard, stacked and untouched. "That one?" I asked. "Oh, that's for—" Helena cut herself off and laughed too bright. "We set that aside for staff. We didn't want guests to see a serving plate." Lila's eyebrow lifted. "We couldn't inconvenience our guests." I looked at the tray in Helena