Winnie woke up early. The bedside clock said it was eight in the morning. West was already gone, but the bed smelled like him, so she cuddled deeper into it, into the soft sheets and pillows. It made her happy to be in his bed. It made her happy to be the woman he wanted.

She couldn’t fall back asleep, so she stretched and then forced herself to sit up. Sunlight was streaming through the half-open drapes. The city outside was glimmering in the fresh, wintery daylight. It was time to get up and find some breakfast.

Feeling a bit like the lady of the house, she pulled on her underwear and one of West’s shirts and padded out into the hallway, closing his bedroom door behind her. She paused to admire a Dali on the wall, then went to the dining room to see if Amy had laid out a spread yet.

She gasped—almost jumped—when she stumbled into a girl on the way there.

A girl.

Another girl in West’s house.

The girl was looking at a painting on the wall and had a half-eaten green apple in her hand. She was startlingly pretty, with big, caramel-colored eyes and a faceful of freckles.

“Hi, good morning,” she said, turning to Winnie. She was dressed in ratty jeans and a near-shear T-shirt, with a wooden ring on her finger. “Are you the human girl?”

Winnie was speechless.

Is she a mentally ill home intruder? Should I run for it? Should I humor her? How does Lila handle confused people at the hospital? Think, Winnie. Okay. Don’t upset her. That’s the key.

“I think I am,” she said slowly. “Last time I checked, anyway. Who are you?”

“My name is Cattail,” the girl said, smiling and showing her beautiful white teeth. “Call me Cat, if you want. What’s your name?”

“Winnie,” Winnie said, as calmly as she could. “Where . . . where did you come from, Cat?”

“Hazleton. It’s in B.C.” The girl took another bite of her apple. “Maybe you could help me, Winnie? I woke up and there were all these dresses in my closet. I don’t know which of them I should wear, or if they’re even for me.”

“Where’s your closet?” Winnie asked, aware of sweat on the back of her neck. Where were Amy and Annika? Were they all right? Was this girl alone, or had other people broken in? Could she call the front desk somehow? She needed help.

“On the south side. It’s over—”

“Oh, Miss Wednesday!” cried Annika, appearing behind the girl’s shoulder. “You’ve met Miss . . . Miss Cattail.”

Winnie was flabbergasted. “You know her?”

“Oh, yes. The master’s family brought her here last night.”

“They did?” Winnie asked, reeling. Her whole body was going hot. “What time?”

“Late,” Annika said, hovering a few feet away from Cattail as if the girl made her nervous. “Amy wished me to say she’s finished the breakfast. I’m sorry there were only apples to eat earlier, Miss Cattail.”

“Oh, no, don’t apologize! These apples are really good,” Cattail said, smiling again. She left for the dining room.

“Annika, what is going on here?” Winnie asked softly. “Who is she?”

Annika looked deeply unhappy. “Mr. Croft’s family came here last night. They brought that girl with them and left her here. Maybe she is related to him, but I’m thinking . . .”

“Yes?” Winnie pressed.

“I’m thinking she’s here for an . . . an arranged marriage, or something like this.” Annika sighed. “I heard from Amy that it was not a nice visit.”

“No, I don’t imagine it was,” said Winnie, her mind racing. “He doesn’t get along with his family, does he? And don’t they live far away?”

“Yes, Miss, they do. I don’t really understand it all myself.” She shook her head. “Please, I shouldn’t gossip. Have some breakfast. Maybe the girl will tell you something.”

Reluctantly, Winnie went into the dining room. Cattail was already seated and drinking some fresh blood-orange juice. She gestured Winnie inside in a friendly way. Cautiously, Winnie sat across from her.

“Is breakfast always like this here?” Cattail asked conversationally. The table was loaded up with French toast sticks, ricotta pancakes, fruit salad, bacon, and turkey sausage. “It’s really fancy, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Winnie said. “Where did you say you were from, again?”

“Hazleton—or, well, around there, anyway. It’s in British Columbia.”

“So you’re Canadian.”

“I guess.” Cattail started forking sausage onto her plate. “Are you from the city?”

“New York? No. Cattail, um . . . are you related to West, or . . .?”

Cattail laughed. It was a pleasant, un-self-conscious laugh. “Kind of. Not really. I guess you could say that our families are related . . . distantly.”

“I hear you got in last night.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Cattail was loading up her plate with pancakes. She had a big appetite, Winnie noticed. “Are you confused about why I’m here?”

“Yes,” said Winnie, surprised that she would be that direct. “I mean, I guess it’s not really my business, but—”

“I’d say it is, since you’re wearing his shirt.” Cattail ate a sausage patty whole. “Do you like him? West?”

“Yes,” Winnie said quietly. “I do.”

“Hmm.” Cattail watched her across the table as she took another long sip of juice. “Even though he’s a bear?”

A bear? There was that word again. Hadn’t West mentioned something about bears when she first saw him? He asked me if I was a bear. What does it mean?

“Oh!” Cattail said, surprising her out of her thoughts. “You don’t know? Elder Stone said there was no way you wouldn’t know. He said West fancied you too much and he must have told you, whatever he said to us.”

“Told me what?” Winnie asked, frowning. “What’s a ‘bear’, Cat?”

Cat was staring at her. “You really don’t know.”

“Please tell me what you meant. What’s a ‘bear’?”

There was a pause.

“It’s not important,” Cat said firmly. “It’s a stupid family thing.”

Winnie wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t press harder—for the moment. “I’m a little lost. Tell me, what brought you to the city, Cat?”

“Winnie, you seem nice,” Cat said, setting down her fork. “I’ve never met a hu—an American girl. I’d like us to be friendly. I really would.”

Winnie waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I was brought here because West’s family doesn’t approve of you. They’re hoping he’ll prefer me,” she said, surprisingly gently. “And that he’ll send you home.”

Abruptly, Winnie stood—and then, confused, sat back down. “They don’t approve of me? They don’t even know me!”

“They don’t have to know you. It’s enough that they . . . um . . . know certain things about you.”

Like what? That I’m fat? That my family doesn’t have money? That I’m not a financial officer making seven figures a year, like West? She was trembling. “They don’t know me,” she repeated in a shaking voice. “And he likes me.”

“I know,” Cattail said sympathetically. “If you eat something, you’ll feel better.”

Winnie’s appetite had gone, but blindly, automatically, she reached for the fruit salad bowl. “Who are you, Cat? What do you do? What do you want? Did you volunteer for this?”

Cat ignored these questions. “I don’t even know that I like West. I won’t pair with him, no matter what anyone else wants, if I don’t.”

The kiwis and blackberries tasted like nothing in Winnie’s mouth. She was too tense. “How long are you staying?”

Cat shrugged. “Dunno.”

Winnie finished her fruit in silence, thinking fast. West’s family doesn’t approve of me. They sent this girl to replace me. They want him to fall for her. And what if he does? She’s beautiful. I can’t believe I’m being replaced like this! His family is fucked up!!

“Winnie?” Cat asked, quietly, once they were both finished. “Are you all right?”

Pulling her hair back into a high, messy ponytail, Winnie nodded. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not interested in hurting you,” Cat said honestly. “I really would like for us to be friends.”

Winnie weighed that for a moment. West’s weird family had chosen to drop this girl on him, and the girl might have agreed to come . . . but it didn’t sound like she was totally sold on the venture, and it clearly hadn’t been her idea. What was the point of ignoring her or rejecting her? It wasn’t in Winnie’s nature to freeze someone out, and frankly, she didn’t think West would be impressed if she tried. Speaking of . . .

“How does West feel about your being here?” Winnie asked.

Cat half-smiled. “I don’t know that he’s thrilled. Winnie, will you come look at the dresses in my room? I really don’t know which ones are right to wear. We could talk more there?”

Mutely, Winnie nodded. The women got up and left the table, Cat leading.

Cat’s guest room was in the apartment’s south wing. It was another beautiful space, with cream carpeting and walls, walnut furniture, and a big, lusciously appointed bed with a sleigh-style headboard. The closet had big, black sliding doors. Cat pulled them apart.

“Back where I come from, no girl’s got clothes like this,” she chattered, pulling out a green dress made of pressed cotton. “Not even close. What we’ve got comes handmade, secondhand, or hand-me-down. You know?”

Winnie nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s it like where you live?”

“Oh, it’s nice,” Cat said, gazing critically into the room’s mirror while holding up the dress. “We live in the deep, deep woods. My family’s cabin is in a birch grove. The trees look amazing when their leaves turn gold. They’re gold right now.”

“Cabin?” Winnie repeated, puzzled. “You live in cabins? Is your family . . . isolationist, like West’s?”

“Isolationist. Yeah, you could say that,” Cat said lightly. “What about you? Where do you come from?”

“A small town in Tennessee. It’s called Wolfpine.”

“Oh, Tennessee! The South, right? That’ll be your accent.” Cat handed Winnie the green dress. “Is that appropriate for daytime?”

Winnie thought about it. “Depends on how daring you are. Look, it’s got cut-outs.”

Cat looked blank.

“Cut-outs,” Winnie repeated, poking her fingers through one. “See? A bare midriff.”

“That’s bad, is it?” Cat asked. “It’s immodest, right?”

Winnie cracked a smile. “I don’t know if it’s immodest, but it’s a little risqué. For your first day in the city, let’s try something a bit more reserved.”

Cat and Winnie went through half a dozen options before settling on an off-the-shoulder dress with flared skirts. When Cat had struggled into it, Winnie had to admit that it looked absolutely amazing. Cat had a much narrower waist than she did, and much firmer thighs—although, she thought, West had admitted he liked very curvy girls. Maybe Cat’s body wouldn’t do it for him.

“You look beautiful,” Winnie said, a little wistfully. “A real knockout.”

“Thank you,” said Cat, picking at the bodice doubtfully. “This is really different for me.”

“Girls don’t wear dresses where you come from?”

“No, they do, it’s just . . .” she trailed off. “We have a different attitude about clothing. It’s not important, right, so none of it is this nice.”

“I see.” The more she heard about the weird-ass culture that West and Cat had come from, the more she disliked it. It sounded repressive, and spartan, and lonely. Culty to the max. “Well, you’d never think to look at you that you hadn’t worn a dress like that before.”

“Thanks, Winnie,” Cat said, showing her perfect teeth in another smile. “What about makeup? I don’t know anything about makeup.”

“You don’t need makeup,” Winnie said automatically. “Really. You’re gorgeous.”

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“No.”

“Then neither do you. You’re gorgeous.”

Winnie smiled, charmed despite herself. “Would you like to try makeup, Cat? I can help you. I’ve got a lot.”

Cat did, so Winnie dragged in her haul of new cosmetics—Chanel, Dior, Shiseido—and went to work making her up. Cat’s hot caramel eyes demanded a dramatic effect, so Winnie provided one, ringing them in luxury eyeliner and smoking them out with eyeshadow. Once she was done with Cat’s whole face, having used bronzer, lipgloss, blush, and everything else in her bag, the other girl looked like a model.

I’m kind of an idiot, Winnie thought regretfully. This girl is my competition, and I just made her look like an actual living Vogue cover. Oh, well.

“Wow, Winnie!” Cat said, admiring herself in the mirror. “That’s incredible. Makeup is a trip.”

Winnie sighed. “It is. Will you excuse me, Cat? I need to get dressed and put-together myself.”

Cat gave her a knowing look. “You’re still prettier than me, even when I’m made up and you’re not.”

“What? No, I’m not.” Winnie laughed, surprised. “Why do you think that?”

“Your figure’s better,” Cat said, not sounding upset, “and your face is gorgeous.” She hesitated. “What is he like, Winnie? In bed?”

Winnie flushed, caught off guard. “Amazing,” she admitted.

Cat tilted her head, considering Winnie. “I like being taken by men, especially if they’re amazing. I hope his personality is good, too.”

Winnie had to laugh a little. This was all too strange. “It is. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Winnie went back to her own room, showered, blow-dried, dressed herself in a pretty dress—it was an eggshell-colored, long-sleeved cocktail dress with double ruffles on the bias—and made up her face. She wanted to look good when West came home, especially since now, she wasn’t alone.