Morning. The smell of coffee, the sound of Katie humming in the kitchen, and a whole floor of empty rooms waiting upstairs. I sit at the table and let her put a cup in front of me before I drop the news.
"We're moving," I say.
Katie pauses, mid-pour. "Moving?"
"Upstairs. The whole fifth floor. Master suite for us, a room for Hope, a room for Hester — and one more, for later."
She looks at me for a long moment. Katie's no fool; she's been in on this from the start, my first follower, the slave who knows my plans better than anyone. She reads the shape of it in three seconds flat, and instead of asking, she smiles.
"The girls will love it," she says.
"I'm counting on it."
Hope comes in first, hair mussed from sleep, and Hester follows a minute later, already dressed and sharp. I break the news over toast, and Hope freezes with a bite halfway to her mouth.
"Today?"
"Today. Three apartments up there, knocked together into one big one. You two get first pick of the rooms."
