Bette looks at Kit and offers a gentle, reassuring smile. “No, no, it’s fine. We’ll be fine…”

Kit studies her for another moment, then nods and looks away. “Alright… well, just let me know if you change your mind…”

Bette smiles as she begins arranging the containers on the counter. “Sure thing…” She sighs softly before continuing. “I just want to do something nice, ya know, have a family dinner to sorta settle everything down. All this shit going on with Michelle, the move… work is crazy for both of us. I just want us all to just take a breath and just enjoy our new home.”

Kit nods, watching her sister with quiet affection. “Well, I think that’s sweet. And Lord knows, after everything you two have been through, you deserve a little peace and quiet.”

Bette smiles, her gaze drifting toward the foyer. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “We really do.”

Kit reaches over and gives Bette’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m happy for you, baby girl. I really am.”

Bette turns back toward her sister, her smile widening. “Thanks, Kit.”

Before either woman can say anything else, Tina’s voice rings out from the foyer.

“Baby! I told you we’re not putting that red woman painting up in this house!”

Bette’s smile immediately disappears. She closes her eyes for a brief moment, her face tightening into a mild cringe.

Kit glances at her sister and chuckles, clearly amused by the interruption.

Bette opens her eyes, shakes her head, and turns toward the kitchen entrance. “But it will bring the room together, T!” she calls, already heading into the foyer…

***

Two days later…

The new house, with its sprawling rooms, pristine finishes, and considerably more space, does absolutely nothing to make the Kennard-Porter morning routine any less chaotic. If anything, the additional square footage simply gives their children more places to hide when it’s time to get ready.

Upstairs, Bette is engaged in what feels like an Olympic-level wrestling match with her four-year-old son, who has apparently decided that getting dressed for his new school is entirely optional.

Downstairs, Tina is having a negotiation of her own, and judging by the stubborn expression on Angelica’s face, it isn’t going particularly well.

Angie sits at the kitchen island, dressed neatly in her school uniform, her backpack propped against one leg of her stool. In front of her sits a plate of scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a colorful assortment of fresh fruit.