Isobel whirled to face the door a moment before it slammed open, a gust of wind pushing its way inside, bringing with it the scent of freshly turned earth and. . . her freaking sister.
"Eva, what are you doing here?" Isobel asked her sibling, who stood in the doorway looking resplendent as always in a thin, black pencil skirt that went to her ankles, trendy little black boots, and a skin-tight, silky, red top. Held in one hand was her mighty broom, the old-fashioned kind with stiff straw bits bound to a long thick staff.
Did the filthy house cringe a little at the sight of a formidable cleaning adversary?
"There you are, little sister," Eva stated.
"Sister? You know this broad?" He jerked a thumb at Eva.
"Yes, I know her. That's Evangeline, my sister."
"Howdy, sista." Christopher gri
