I didn’t want to admit how much I’d been looking forward to Magda’s visit. Although my job at a no-kill animal shelter specializing in elderly pets was satisfying, ever since I’d returned from my adventures in Iceland, life seemed to be . . . empty. It was as if a part of me were missing; something that I used to have was now gone, leaving me a shell of a person. I didn’t expect Magda would change that, but she had become a very good friend, and I was cheered no end by the thought of her visit.

“No! That’s the good part. Because Ray is taking a whole month off, I managed to talk my manager into giving me an extra week, so I’ll have two weeks with you, and then one with my sister before we have to come back to San Francisco. That is, if you can stand us that long. Ray, hand me the basil, would you? No, the fresh stuff. Could you chop that onion for me? Sorry, Pia. We’re making spaghetti.”

“Sounds yummy. And stand you?” I laughed somewhat grimly. “I may never let you guys go home!”

“Oh, yes, we’ll just see how long that opinion remains once Kristoff shows up and apologizes for being such a butthead.” Her voice dropped suddenly. “Speaking of that . . . do you want me to tell Ray? About you being a Zorya and Kristoff and the you-know-whats and all the rest?”

I rubbed my forehead. Lately I seemed to always have a nagging, low-grade headache. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m not a Zorya anymore, and given this morning, I think I just need to face the fact that Kristoff isn’t ever going to-Crap. Someone’s at the door again.”

“Use the cannibal line this time. I guarantee you it’ll work.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested,” I was saying even before I had the door all the way open. My excuse dried up at the sight of the man standing on the steps. “Gark.”

“What?” Magda asked. “What about a park?”