It was a simple moment at the beginning of summer. Klara was sprawled out on the couch, flipping through her favorite novel and wafting away her great-grandmother's smoke when all of a sudden, she hastily closed the book and spoke. "Sometimes I think Father just doesn't understand that I'm not a child anymore. But the truth, is I'm not. I'm growing into a woman, and a sophisticated one at that. And just because I love children's literature and the worlds within my novels, doesn't mean I'm detached from the real one," she huffed. Cordelia had smiled to herself. Klara's world was by no means small, but it was simple and had always been filled with characters from novels—epic romances spanning the seas, forests filled with honey bears, and skies with children who could fly. Their estate, and Klara's mind, has always been filled with stories. In many ways, her life was as open as a partially-read book. Ready for the pages to be turned, in any direction and at...