Balance doesn't rush. For one thing, it's hard to rush anywhere with a two-year-old son, unless it is after him.

For another...let the others greet her first, Balance's time will come soon enough. When it does, she gets to her feet and walks over, a tall, leggy blonde, tanned and sea-green sea-blue eyed as the ancient Greeks whose dress she wears.

"Welcome to the madhouse, sister," she says at last with a smile, her voice all rich velvet. In her arms, Emilie waves.