A: No, D. Don’t do it.
A: Don’t make me choose between you.
A: I mean it, D. This is work.
D: But I—
A: No, I mean, they pay me. I have to.
A: It’s the Show, D. I have to go; I’m scheduled.
D: A, you can find time.
A: You don’t understand, D. It’s. The. Show.
D: . . .
A: Bead&Button. The Show.
D: I don’t think—
A: The Bead Show, D. The Bead&Button Show, the biggest in the world.
D: But why?
A: I’m in customer service, D. It’s expected. There’s a registration desk with my name on it. It is my duty.
D: Oh, duty! Well, then A, forgive me. I didn’t understand. Under the circumstances, I grant you dispensation.
A: You’re not the pope, D.
D: And you’re a heathen, A.
A: . . .
D: . . .
D: Enjoy the night off, A. I expect two times the words and effort out of you tomorrow, however.
A: Um, about that. . .
D: Tomorrow, too? All right then, fine. On Thursday–
A: Yes, well. . .
D: And Thursday?
A: How do you think I keep myself in flash drives and bandwidth, D?
D: Flash drives and what? I will never understand you. Fine, abscond from your duties. I’ll just go hunt down some unsuspecting—
A: D, behave yourself. No unsuspecting anything while I’m gone.
D: Impossible woman.
Good, she’s gone. If you are a beader, this show is very . . . well, I’m not a beader. I’m not even sure what a beader does. Does it involve a loom? My mother did beautiful loom-work. Well, hello, A. What are you doing back so soon? Forget something?
A: Yes, you apparently. Don’t bore the good people, D. Tell the tale and be done with it.
D: Task-master. I feel honored that anyone deigns to read these words, and now it is your turn to honor the special people in your life: Green Embers now features song dedications, and Petite Magquie has something she calls Poetrics, which are lovely.
A: In that vein, visit Andra at the Accidental Cootchie Mama and read her series honoring her journey back to see her Grandmother’s home. It is beautifully written and poignant.
D: Say, A. Do you know how to do anything poignant or artsy?
A: Um, I can sew a button or, you know, write. But beyond that? Bead? Loom? What?
D: Maureen makes so much more sense now.
“. . . Grania has enough to do without playing nursemaid to a lass who doesn’t need one. She did try to teach me spinning once, but that was a miserable failure.”
Sean laughed. “Spinning? You mean, spinning wool? You?”
“It was a bit of a disaster.” Maureen made a face, remembering. “I felt a little bad that I was so awful at it. I think spinning is the one domestic thing she really enjoys. The sound is soothing enough, I suppose. She did hint that if I wanted a life after seafaring, I might want to learn something domestic.” She looked up, meeting Sean’s eyes. “I think I’d rather take my chances convincing Grandfather about University . . .”