"Well, they'll have me to answer to, now, too," Carla Jean says, still clearly less than pleased with the idea of anyone giving Kate a hard time over it. There are times, she's sure, where it hasn't worked, the age-old cliché of the young girl getting taken advantage of by the older guy, but Kate's perfectly capable of making her own damn decisions, and Carla Jean finds it hard to believe she'd fall into that trap, anyway. God knows she'd met her fair share of disapproval when, at sixteen, she'd married a man nearly twenty years her senior, but she had loved Llewelyn — always would, come to that — and he'd been good to her, far more so than she suspects would have been the case if she'd wound up with one of the young, stupid boys she had gone to school with.

Of course, she probably wouldn't have been widowed then murdered at nineteen if she had, but even so, she wouldn't change a thing now.

Tipping her head up to look at the building, she draws in a deep breath, then nods as she looks over at Kate. Quickly as all of this has happened, she can barely wrap her head around any of it, but there's no sense in standing around here waiting for nothing. "Ready as I'll ever be," she says, then cracks a smile. "You know, I've never lived off the ground floor before."