Bette mirrors the smile, light, and genuine. “Right back at ya…” Her smile fades as she turns to Tina, whose brows knit in bemused curiosity. Bette shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over the other to ease the tension.

With a professional click, GiGi brings the focus back to business. “All right, I’ve pulled together some fantastic properties that I think you’ll love….”

***

Kennard Household….

Later that night, Tina steps out of the ensuite bathroom, tightening the belt of her plush white robe around her waist. In the dim glow of the bedside lamps, she notices Bette sitting on the master bedroom patio. A gentle breeze moves Bette’s hair as she cradles a heavy crystal tumbler filled with scotch. From the corner, a Bluetooth speaker hums a mellow jazz tune, with the low bass notes blending with the chirping cicadas beyond the sliding glass door.

Tina crosses the room with careful steps, the carpet softening her movements. She slides the door shut behind her and tilts her head, feeling the cool night air brush her cheeks. “The kids went down pretty quickly tonight, I guess?” she says, voice a gentle whisper under the quiet of the evening.

Bette lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah… I’m just as shocked as you are.” She brushes a loose strand of hair from her forehead and lifts her glass in a small toast.

Tina smiles, settling herself into the chair beside Bette. The cushions creak softly under her weight. “Well,” she murmurs, “usually when that happens, you join me in the shower, Bette Porter….”

Bette turns, a roguish grin tugging at her lips. She lifts an eyebrow in playful reprimand. “Well…that little subtle yet very real annoyed vein you get on your forehead kinda told me that I better fuck off and give you a little space…”

Tina presses her fingertips to her brow, frowning in mock indignation. “First of all, there is no such vein…”

Bette chuckles, bringing the glass to her lips for another sip. “I beg to differ, baby…it’s still very prevalent as we speak…”

Tina crosses her arms over her chest, robe sleeves bunching at her elbows. “It is not…” She narrows her eyes, then exhales. “So GiGi Ghorbani…”