If there had been pictures that went in dictionaries, Stephen was sure Miranda's sneer would've been the image used for spite, hate, vitrol, disgust or a whole bunch of words that hovered around the general I hate everything about you and hope to heaven you die a miserable death feeling. His eyes rolled between his sister and the woman standing in the doorway, seemingly oblivious to the spite spraying at her general direction. He wondered if the blonde myth was true. "Stephen, dear, when you have the chance, your father and I would like to talk with you about Linda next door. Seems she needs a favor and wants you to help."

"Okay..." he responded, turning his eyes back to Miranda who folded her arms tightly across her chest and looked as if he would have to get a chisel to unlock her arms ever again. "Is that all?"

"Hm? Oh, yes..." she responded, winking at him before turning and walking out of the room. Flounced was more appropriate, really, but all he could do was nudge the door shut with his foot before turning to look at his sister who, surprisingly, looked on the verge of tears.