If there was any doubt about the authenticity of his fake ID, it would now be put to the test. As Sage waited for the Secret Service to do their due diligence, I wondered how much our mission to find Dad would be set back by Sage taking a quick detour to federal prison.
“He’s clear,” the lead agent finally said.
Great, we could go in. Sage politely insisted that Rayna and I enter before him.
“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said, but he wouldn’t hear it. Rayna, Ben, and I shared a knowing smile. Then I shrugged and stepped over the threshold…immediately triggering the Piri alarm. I don’t know how she knew; she was all the way in the kitchen. But the minute I stepped into the foyer she raced in, arms waving in the air, a high-pitched scream keening from her lungs.
“AIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!”
“He made me do it, Piri,” I said, happily tossing Sage under the bus. “I tried to tell him-“
Piri strode right up to Sage, her head barely reaching his sternum, and jabbed her finger into his chest to emphasize each scolding word. “You never let a woman enter this house before a man! Very bad luck! And when the senator’s doing business! Jaj!”
She pushed us back outside, closed the door, and spit three times on the porch (barely missing the shoes of one of the Secret Service agents), then turned her baleful eyes to Sage, asking him to do the same.
“I don’t think I really need to spit on Clea’s porch,” Sage said uncomfortably, but Piri’s glare only grew more and more violent until he withered under its power…and spit three times. Piri smiled smugly and opened the door, gesturing for Sage to enter. Ben went next, bending to Piri’s ear to murmur, “If it’d been me, I would have gone in first.”
“That’s because you’re a smart boy,” Piri said, kissing him on both cheeks.
Once we were all in, Piri greeted us as if for the first time, with huge hugs and two-cheeked kisses.
As she led us to the luncheon raging in the other room, Ben crowed to Sage, “You know, a real European scholar would be up on old-school superstitions.”
Sage grimaced.

Autore: Hilary Duff

If there was any doubt about the authenticity of his fake ID, it would now be put to the test. As Sage waited for the Secret Service to do their due diligence, I wondered how much our mission to find Dad would be set back by Sage taking a quick detour to federal prison.<br />“He’s clear,” the lead agent finally said.<br />Great, we could go in. Sage politely insisted that Rayna and I enter before him.<br />“Not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said, but he wouldn’t hear it. Rayna, Ben, and I shared a knowing smile. Then I shrugged and stepped over the threshold…immediately triggering the Piri alarm. I don’t know how she knew; she was all the way in the kitchen. But the minute I stepped into the foyer she raced in, arms waving in the air, a high-pitched scream keening from her lungs.<br />“AIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!”<br />“He made me do it, Piri,” I said, happily tossing Sage under the bus. “I tried to tell him-“<br />Piri strode right up to Sage, her head barely reaching his sternum, and jabbed her finger into his chest to emphasize each scolding word. “You never let a woman enter this house before a man! Very bad luck! And when the senator’s doing business! Jaj!”<br />She pushed us back outside, closed the door, and spit three times on the porch (barely missing the shoes of one of the Secret Service agents), then turned her baleful eyes to Sage, asking him to do the same.<br />“I don’t think I really need to spit on Clea’s porch,” Sage said uncomfortably, but Piri’s glare only grew more and more violent until he withered under its power…and spit three times. Piri smiled smugly and opened the door, gesturing for Sage to enter. Ben went next, bending to Piri’s ear to murmur, “If it’d been me, I would have gone in first.”<br />“That’s because you’re a smart boy,” Piri said, kissing him on both cheeks.<br />Once we were all in, Piri greeted us as if for the first time, with huge hugs and two-cheeked kisses.<br />As she led us to the luncheon raging in the other room, Ben crowed to Sage, “You know, a <i>real</i> European scholar would be up on old-school superstitions.”<br />Sage grimaced. - Hilary Duff



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