"Hey Kristy!" Mary Anne greeted, slightly flushed from both the cold weather outside and the giddy seven-year-old that practically attacked Mary Anne when she opened the door. In the back of her head she heard her father reprimanding her. Hay is for horses Mary Anne, not for saying hi to someone.
"Emily is turning out to be a little firecracker," she laughed, taking her duffel bag from her shoulder and placing it gently next to one of the mattresses.