"Are you nuts?" Ada shrieked as Lynn sat inside the back office of Studio West and listened to her best friend break out into a full tirade. "Toss her scrawny ass to the curb. You don't need to put up with her shit."

Lifting her head from her hands, Lynn sighed. Were her skull not currently splitting down the center, she would have chuckled at how accurately she'd pegged her best friend's reaction. "She's my little sister, Ada."

"She's a spoiled brat," Ada countered, eyes flaming about as red as her wild hair that tumbled around porcelain skin scattered with pale freckles and whiskey eyes. "Who does she think she is to just blithely waltz in and make demands? Or assumptions, for that matter, since she didn't even have the courtesy to ask if she could stay, but rather made herself at home like she owned the place."

"She's my little sister," Lynn managed again. "And you should have seen her. She looked," she frowned, recalling to memory the sight of Joy without the haze of shock and the jolt of frustration to cloud the image. "Haggard and pretty beat up like the last few years were spent surviving on a panhandler's pittance rather than splashing through one swanky hotel after another, visiting exotic countries and attending lavish celebrity parties. Why, just last year mom was telling me Joy got herself in all the magazines at Zac Efron's birthday extravaganza. But something's wrong with her, Ada. I can feel it."

"So?" Ada shot back, hands on her hips and without even the barest a hint of sympathy though something, and she'd bite of her tongue before she'd admit it, twisted deep in her belly. "What do her problems have to do with you?"

"She might be in trouble. Don't know what kind or even if I am right, but we're family. And she's mine to look after." Lynn replied after a moment of reflection, shifting her eyes to the wall of photographs Ada had framed. Most were popular pieces featured in magazines or their covers, or had won an award or two, helping to propel her name in the world of photography at the tender age of twenty-seven.

But the most recent one was Lynn's favourite, one Ada had taken at her dance studio, of her morning class with the kids from the community centre, with Lynn caught in the laughing, spinning ring of them as they'd joined hands and whirled about her. Most of the image was a blur, but her face, her smiling, laughing face, stood out in the black and white and grey, caught in a moment of such splendid happiness it made her throat ache.

A reminder of why she'd opened Plié's doors in the first place. Because she loved to dance, and wanted to share that love with the world. And now it could all be ripped away before she'd even had a chance to really make something of it. Of herself.

Lynn lowered her eyes.

Deflated, and knowing her temper could be a dangerous thing, Ada pushed it down to the pit of her stomach, understanding that though she and Lynn had been the best of friends for almost ten years, the two were vastly different as individuals. No sense in trying to cram anything down her throat when Lynn was clearly going through something much deeper than a troubling family reunion.

Concerned, untouched coffee still in hand, Ada lowered to her haunches and brushed a hand over Lynn's knee. "Hey, Gilbert, something's eating you. Wanna talk about it?" And was pleased by the hint of a smile lighted along Lynn's face she'd been hoping for.

"Not yet. But eventually. Why don't you brighten my mood with more tales of your astounding success?"

"Well." Ada pushed to her feet, took her first, and much needed, hit of coffee. Her third of the day, but who was counting? "Got a call from the Chief Editor of Vogue yesterday evening. They're doing an expose on fashion in Toronto and want me on board as the photographer to add some 'local colour'." Ada wiggled her fingers for air quotes, easing a hip onto the edge of her hopelessly cluttered desk, buried under mounds of paper, supplies and photography prints.

"Wow." Forgetting her present woes, Lynn's eyes popped with smiling disbelief. "That's incredible! Amazing."

"Apparently they saw some of my stuff from when I worked that shoot during the New York fashion show a couple years back. And Tom gave me a glittering review," she added, remembering her former mentor fondly, the scraggly ginger in horn rimmed glasses, large teeth and a penchant for knit sweaters and oxfords.

"I am so proud of you."

"Thank you, so, given that this will be the biggest account to cross my desk this year...hell, even last year, celebrating is in order. But not this weekend," Ada frowned, remembering she was booked solid on the wedding out in Hamilton. "Or next, but the one after."

Lynn struggled to pull her own crowded itinerary to the forefront of her mind, came up dry. "Think that'll work for me. And if not, plenty of time for me to rejig an appointment or two so I can sleep in."

"Excellent!" Thrilled at the thought of a night of drunken festivities, Ada shot to her feet, spun in a giddy, dizzy circle. "Okay, it's a date, and don't you dare cancel," she warned, halting abruptly. "We haven't had a night out in months."

"Didn't we have drinks the last week of January?" Lynn pointed out.

"Doesn't count." Ada frowned. "It was a business meeting...tempered by only two martinis. Hardly anything to get excited about."

"Alright," Lynn promised, setting a hand over her heart in solemn vow. "Three weeks from now, it's a date. We'll drink until we can barely walk, dance until our feet can't take it and fall into bed in the pre-dawn hours, hung over beyond reason and wishing for oblivion."

"Fantastic." Ada beamed, gulping down the rest of her lukewarm coffee. "Now, about the weekend after next, Maureen Mercer's birthday dinner. Any thoughts on a gift?"

Seeing the time was approaching near three, Lynn rose, slid on her heavy wool coat. "Flowers, of course, and that new romance novel she's been talking about, but Darcy's confirmed she's got dibs on that."

"Bitch," Ada grumbled.

"She also has her eye on Gordon Ramsey's new cookbook. And a gift card for a nice dinner at her favourite restaurant couldn't hurt."

Perking up, Ada grinned. "Yeah. That's what I'll do. Sweet."

"Happy to help." Lynn laughed, pulling her knit cap over her tumble of golden curls. "What else are friends for?"

"Wonder if the boys will make it back for this one," Ada mused, aware of the sudden tensing of Lynn's back as she tried, rather poorly, to mask her surprise.

"Tristan might."

"Actually, I was thinking more about Hunter," Ada continued, repressing a smile. "Been a long time since he's been home."

"Unlikely," she answered, unsure why her heart was suddenly beating just a little faster at the notion. "Darcy told me he has some big charity auction coming up. Doubt he'd want to miss such an important occasion."

No, she thought, no way would Hunter give up fame and Rome for family, friends and a Toronto winter.