There was a thought. People celebrating Sam. Hell, she’d be thrilled if anyone even noticed she existed. How was it that she had come to have so much middle child syndrome when she was an only child? Well, youngest child actually, she supposed. But only child in all the ways that counted.

“Well, I’m aiming for minimal puke. But that’s good to know,” she said.

She made a broad, sweeping gesture to the bowl at the end of the counter. There was about a pint of murky clear liquid inside. “You’re welcome to sample the product. Although maybe I should have you sign a waiver first.”