As she often did when perplexed, she had come here to think and try to decide what Ephron would have counseled her. She was curled on the divan on the opposite side of the fireplace, her slippers discarded on the floor. She wore a soft woolen robe, well worn from two years' use. It was as comfortable as her seat. She had built the fire herself, and kindled it and watched it burn through its climax. Now the wood was settling, glowing against itself, and she was relaxed and warm but seemed no closer to an answer of any kind.

She had just decided that Ephron would have shrugged his shoulders and delegated the problem back to her, when she heard a tap at the heavy wood-paneled door.

“Yes?”

She had expected Rache, but it was Keffria who entered. She wore a night-robe and her heavy hair was braided and coiled as for sleep, but she carried a tray with a steaming pot and heavy mugs on it. Ronica smelled coffee and cinnamon.

“I had given up on your coming.”

Keffria didn't directly answer that. “I decided that as long as I couldn't sleep, I might as well be really awake. Coffee?”

“Actually, that would be good.”

This was the sort of peace they had found, mother and daughter. They talked past one another, asking no questions save regarding food or some other trifle. Keffria and Ronica both avoided anything that might lead to a confrontation. Earlier, when Keffria had not come as invited, Ronica had assumed that was why. Bitterly she had reflected that Kyle had taken both her daughters from her: driven the one away and walled the other up. But now she was here, and Ronica found herself suddenly determined to regain at least something of her daughter. As she took the heavy steaming mug from Keffria, she said, “I was impressed by you today. Proud.”

A bitter smile twisted Keffria's face. “Oh, I was, too. I singlehandedly triumphed in defeating the conniving plot of a sly thirteen-year-old girl.” She sat down in her father's chair, kicked off her slippers and curled her feet up under her. “Rather a hollow victory, Mother.”

“I raised two daughters,” Ronica pointed out gently. “I know how painful victory can be sometimes.”

“Not over me,” Keffria said dully. There was self-loathing in her tone as she added, “I don't think I ever gave you and Father a sleepless night. I was a model child, never challenging anything you told me, keeping all the rules, and earning the rewards of such virtue. Or so I thought.”

“You were my easy daughter,” Ronica conceded. “Perhaps because of that, I under-valued you. Over-looked you.” She shook her head to herself. “But in those days, Althea worried me so that I seldom had a moment to think of what was going right…”

Keffria exhaled sharply. “And you didn't know the half of what she was doing! As her sister, I… but in all the years, it hasn't changed. She still worries us, both of us. When she was a little girl, her willfulness and naughtiness always made her Papa's favorite. And now that he has gone, she has disappeared, and so managed to capture your heart as well, simply by being absent.”

“Keffria!” Ronica rebuked her for the heartless words. Her sister was missing, and all she could be was jealous of Ronica worrying about her? But after a moment, Ronica asked hesitantly, “You truly feel that I give no thoughts to you, simply because Althea is gone?”

“You scarcely speak to me,” Keffria pointed out. “When I muddled the ledger books for what I had inherited, you simply took them back from me and did them yourself. You run the household as if I were not here. When Cerwin showed up on the doorstep today, you charged directly into battle, only sending Rache to tell me about it as an afterthought. Mother, were I to disappear as Althea has, I think the household would only run more smoothly. You are so capable of managing it all.” She paused and her voice was almost choked as she added, “You leave no room for me to matter.” She hastily lifted her mug and took a long sip of the steaming coffee. She stared deep into the fireplace.

Ronica found herself wordless. She drank from her own mug. She knew she was making excuses when she said, “But I was always just waiting for you to take things over from me.”

“And always so busy holding the reins that you had no time to teach me how. ‘Here, give me that, it's easier if I just do it myself.’ How many times have you said that to me? Do you know how stupid and helpless it always made me feel?” The anger in her voice was very old.

“No,” Ronica said quietly. “I didn't know that. But I should have. I really should have. And I am sorry, Keffria. Truly sorry.”

Keffria snorted out a sigh. “It doesn't really matter, now. Forget it.” She shook her head, as if sorting through things she could say to find the words she must. “I'm taking charge of Malta,” she said quietly. She glanced up at her mother as if expecting opposition. Ronica only looked at her. She took a deeper breath. “Maybe you doubt that I can do it. I know I doubt it. But I know I'm going to try. And I wanted to ask you… No. I'm sorry, but I have to tell you this. Don't interfere. No matter how rocky or messy it gets. Don't try to take it away from me because it's easier to do it yourself.”

Ronica was aghast. “Keffria, I wouldn't.”

Keffria stared into the fire. “Mother, you would. Without even knowing you were, just as you did today. I took what you had set up, and handled it from there. But left to myself, I would not have called Malta down at all. I would have told Cerwin and Delo that she was out or busy or sick, and sent them politely on their way, without giving Malta the chance to simper and flirt.”

“That might have been better,” Ronica conceded in a low voice. Her daughter's words hurt. She had only been trying to think swiftly and handle things quickly to prevent a disaster. But although her daughter's words stung, she could also hear the truth of them. So she closed her lips tightly and took a sip of her coffee. “May I know what you plan?” she asked after a few moments.

“I scarcely know myself,” Keffria admitted. “She is so far gone, and she has so little respect for me… I may not be able to do anything with her. But I have a few ideas of ways to begin. I'm going to take Rache away from her. No more dance or etiquette lessons unless she earns them. If and when they resume, she will have to extend to Rache the same courtesy and respect that Selden gives his tutor. The lessons will be at a set time every day, not whenever Malta is bored and wishes a diversion. If she misses one, she will have to earn the time back with chores.” Keffria took a breath. “I intend that she will only earn the privileges of a woman by doing the work of a woman. So.” She took a breath and then met her mother's eyes. “I am taking back my ledger books from you. I will not let Malta grow up as ignorant as I am. Malta is going to have to spend some time reconciling the ledgers every week. I know she will blot them and spoil pages and make mistakes and copy pages over. We will both have to endure that, as will she. She will have to enter the numbers and tot them up. And she… we, that is… will have to accompany you when you meet with the brokers and the tradesmen and the overseers. She needs to learn how the estates and trading accounts are handled.”

Again Keffria paused, as if waiting to deal with an objection. Ronica said nothing.

“She will, of course, have to behave well at those times. And dress as befits a girl who is becoming a woman. Not cheaply and suggestively, but not childishly, either. She will need some new clothing. I intend that she shall share in the making of it. And that she will learn to prepare food, and supervise the servants.”

Ronica nodded gravely each time Keffria added another task to those Malta must learn. When she finally paused, her mother spoke. “I think you have made wise plans, and Malta can benefit greatly from what you propose to teach her. But I do not think she will come willingly to this. It is not fashionable at all for a woman to know how to do such things, let alone to actually do them. In fact, Bingtown now sees such behavior as plebeian. It will hurt her pride to do it. I doubt she will be a willing student.”