Each sister had her own level in the converted warehouse: Naresha at the top, Milda on the second, and Acacia in the basement. The ground floor held the offices and Nana's living quarters. The girls often hung around Nana's floor, just enjoying the sense of closeness it gave them.

Acacia wasn't in the room, but as usual had left the television on. Always energy conscious, Milda switched it off just as someone carrying an axe was lunging across the screen. Acacia loved that kind of movie, and Naresha found them amusing, but they just weren't Milda's cup of herbal tea.

Milda retrieved a greasy bowl and empty Pepsi bottle from the coffee table and took them into the kitchen. Sometimes Acacia gave the lie to that 'cats are neat freaks' line of thinking, but Milda couldn't get angry with her for it. She knew Acacia was the toughest of them all, but in some ways she'd just never grown up.

Milda rinsed the plastic bottle and put it in the proper recycling bin, and quickly washed the bowl. She decided to make some brownies for a surprise for Nana's breakfast, and started the oven. As it preheated, she assembled her utensils and ingredients. Flour, butter, eggs, sugar, cocoa, vanilla, salt, baking powder...She opened a tin canister decorated with sunflowers and paused, studying the baggie of hashish inside.

Nana preferred the regular kind of brownies, not the 'fortified' kind. And since she was in charge of the household during the days, it made sense. So she'd make two batches of brownies, one with and one without. In this household they'd know very well that the 'with' did not refer to chopped walnuts.

Milda sifted and mixed, never measuring anything and never getting more or less that a fraction of a gram off what she was aiming for. Soon the thick fudgy batter was spread in two pans and popped into the oven. Just as she closed the oven door, she heard the front office bell.

Naresha and Acacia usually handled the clients, but there was no reason why Milda couldn't do the first interview. She went through to the front door, and checked the security monitors mounted on the wall. They gave a view of the front doorway, and views up and down the surrounding street.

The woman was dressed in a Kmart special dress, cheap but scrupulously clean and ironed. Her salt and pepper hair was cut in a style that was meant to be short and sleek, but it had begun to grow out. She had smoothed back the ragged edges as much as possible, but her mousse was fighting the humidity.

She had to be a customer, Milda decided. No one would come to the lair seeking directions or a phone. There wasn't a sliver of light visible anywhere to indicate that it wasn’t abandoned. Every opening but the door and vents had been covered or painted over long ago.

The woman was glancing up and down the street nervously. Wise woman. This wasn't an area to be out in alone at night. That usually weeded out the clientele that wasn't serious.