Charles rode in the middle, which wasn’t comfortable for him; his long legs didn’t fit easily anywhere. But better, she thought, than forcing poor Max to squish between virtual strangers. Charles could have driven, of course, but he had just shaken his head when she’d suggested it. At a guess, Changing Chelsea had left him pretty raw. He wouldn’t say it, though, in front of Max. Hosteen had packed the two youngest children, Kage, and Chelsea, pale but freshly showered, in the BMW. Anna followed them through the streets of Scottsdale. “Mom looked okay,” said Max, not looking at Charles. “It varies from person to person,” Anna said. “But I suspect she’s got about two hours before she sleeps like the dead for a good long while. She’ll wake up for a couple of hours and sleep the rest of the day for two or three days. Then she should be mostly back to normal.” Charles grunted assent, and that unfriendly sound shut Max down completely.
