Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Interview?”
At the museum, Eden walked into the curator’s office with a calm she hadn’t expected. She greeted the curator with a warm smile and said, “Good morning, I’m Eden, and I’m thrilled to be here.” eden ivy face slap
“Morning,” Ivy murmured, handing the mug over with a soft smile. “You need this more than I do.” Ivy raised an eyebrow
“Deal,” Ivy replied, already reaching for the watering can. “You need this more than I do
Ivy winked. “Sometimes a face slap is the most honest way to tell someone they’re taking themselves too seriously.”
“Remember,” Ivy said, tapping the rim of her own mug, “sometimes a face slap is just a reminder that someone cares enough to keep you grounded.”
The sun was just beginning to peek over the rooftops of the sleepy town of Brookfield, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. In the modest, ivy‑covered cottage at the end of Maple Lane, two sisters were already awake, their minds already racing with the day ahead.