“Katrina?” Mandy rapped lightly on the door.

“Come in,” Katrina called, determinedly banishing thoughts of Reed and tightening the sash of her satin robe.

The door opened. Like Katrina, Mandy had showered recently. Her damp chestnut hair was combed back in a ponytail, and she’d pulled on a hunter-green T-shirt over a pair of beige cargo pants.

“How’re you doing?” Mandy opened, letting the door swing closed behind her, getting comfortable on the corner of the bed and curling her bare feet beneath her. “Ankle holding up?”

“I’m fine,” Katrina answered. “It’s doing okay.”

She really was fine, she realized. Quentin was far away and suddenly easy to push from her thoughts. He’d been obliterated by Reed. She felt buoyant and upbeat from all that fresh air. Her ankle had survived the walk with surprising strength. It felt a whole lot better than it had yesterday.

“Seth called,” said Mandy.

“Is he ordering us back home?” Katrina crossed to her suitcase, open on a low table in the corner of the room. She’d been wondering how long her other three siblings would let her and Mandy hide out at the Terrell ranch.

“Sort of. He wants us to go to Lyndon with him tomorrow. The Lyndon Hospital is hosting a charity ball, and he thinks it’ll be good for the campaign to have a strong Jacobs contingent by his side.”

Katrina glanced over her shoulder. “He wants us to campaign for him?”

“Nah. All we have to do is show up, dance and smile for the cameras. Cakewalk for you.”

Katrina retrieved a simple black knit skirt and a filmy copper cap-sleeved blouse. “Are we talking ballgowns and the whole nine yards?”

Mandy nodded. “It’ll be formal.”

“Then I’ll have to go shopping.” Which was a waste, since Katrina had a dozen perfectly appropriate ballgowns hanging in her closet in New York City. “And maybe do something with my hair. And I don’t know what I’ve got for shoes.”