Wheeling Gull Isle I am the owner of nowhere land, queen of a castle that’s made of sand.

Towhee fought hard not to roll her eyes. There was no bloodshed, as far as she could tell, just bruised feelings. If it had been her own children, she probably would’ve dismissed the argument outright, let them sort it out between themselves in their own time. Or maybe set up a puppy battle dome, who knows? But she was a little softer as a grandmother than a mother and she did hate seeing both girls so sullen following what was supposed to be an enjoyable activity.

Mmkay. Your parents let you roam the island pretty freely, don’t they? Why don’t you, Towhee said, pointing to the east, go that way? And you go the opposite way, she continued, catching Ava’s eye and pointing in the opposite direction. Take some time to cool off while I sort through these flowers and arrange them into two bouquets. They’re gonna be all mixed together so nobody will know who picked what, in case that had any bearing on your fight.

Towhee promptly—but gingerly—swept all the flowers into a single heap. She then gave each girl a hard look, pointing emphatically as if to say, Class dismissed.

Aloud, she said, Come back this way in about an hour, then we can find your parents and present them to them as a united triad. Capische?