Eric Flint: 1635:The Dreeson Incident

The expression on Minnie's face was seriously disillusioned.

"But she might invite us to serve cake and punch at the reception," Denise offered as a consolation prize. "Or whatever people are using now instead of cake and punch."

"That's better than nothing. I guess."

"We did already get invited to Gerry's confirmation." Denise held out an elaborately decorated printed sheet. "He mailed yours to me, too, because he wasn't sure of Benny's address."

Minnie took her copy. "I guess Doreen would be willing to go with us over to Rudolstadt. I don't think that your mom goes to confirmations."

"It's going to be here at St. Martin's. A real big deal. We can go by ourselves if none of the grownups want to go with us. What do you wear to a confirmation?" Denise asked. "I've never been to one."

"Your best dress. Not a prom dress, but if you have a good dress to wear to daytime things, that would be right. Like the one I wear when I go to church with Benny, Sundays when the weather's nasty and I don't want to walk out to St. Martin's."

"Good jeans?"

"I don't think so. Maybe nice slacks, though, with a matching top."

"I wore my good jeans to the Christmas play at St. Martin's."

"That was at night, and everyone kept their coats on, you said, because the church was so cold. You could ask Mrs. Reading what to wear. She'd know what's right. Your mom can afford to buy you one, can't she?"

"Yeah. I think so. She'll wonder what I need a dress for, though."

Minnie frowned. "Is Gerry better now? Less upset about what when on down in Rome?"

"Yeah. Maybe that's why he's being confirmed here instead of over at the school. He really likes this pastor. It's funny, Minnie."

"What?"

"Here we are, all three of us sixteen. When I look at Gerry, I start thinking that we've really got to start deciding what we want to do with our lives beyond skipping school whenever we can get away with it and riding motorcycles."

"And being bridesmaids, if Missy would ask us." Minnie looked wistful. "I would love to have a green bridesmaid's dress. Doreen picks my new clothes out and she never picks anything green. With one of those skirts that's slim at the top and flares out below, like an upside-down lily."

"It's a little discouraging. Gerry is so absolutely sure of what he wants to do. He's not bothered a bit by knowing that he'll be going to school for years and years and years more."

"It's that atonement thing. He's still really bothered about killing that Marius guy."

"I know," Denise said."

"Why did it bother him so much? Why does it still bother him so much? What did that book we looked up at the library call it? A crisis of conscience?"

"Well," Denise suggested tentatively, "maybe he got so upset because he did it by accident. On the spur of the moment. To a guy who wasn't really right, mentally. It wasn't something that he knew needed doing and decided to do."

Minnie nodded her head. That seemed as good an explanation as any they were likely to think of. They settled down to catch up on the homework they had missed while they were out of town.

Mrs. Dreeson and Mrs. Wiley had really been pretty annoyed with them. So had Missy and Pam. Mentoring. It wasn't as if they were so dumb that they had to be in class every day in order to get decent grades.

When they got their diplomas, they knew, they had some interesting things coming to them from the locked cubicles at the storage lot. Buster had left a letter covering it in his safe deposit box, in case anything happened to him.

Denise's dad had believed in keeping his paperwork in order.

"I still think," Minnie said, "that it would be more fun to be a bridesmaid and walk down the aisle carrying a bouquet than it would be to serve cake and punch. Junior bridesmaids, maybe? One of the magazines had an article about those. Do you suppose we could hint?"

Don Francisco put down the report currently in front of him.

The news from the Netherlands was that lava lamps bade fair to become the equivalent of the tulip craze recorded in the encyclopedias from up-time. There appeared to be every reason to believe that Laurent Mauger, his wife Velma Hardesty, his LaChapelle nephews in Leiden, and Jacques-Pierre Dumais were on their way to a fortune that would dwarf Mauger's original very prosperous business enterprises. A fortune which, being prudently kept in the names of Velma, the two nephews, and Dumais, would be unaffected by the civil agreement Mauger had made with his sons and other nephews before he remarried.

This might have significant potential for increasing Mauger's influence in the circles of recalcitrant, irredentist, Huguenot opponents of Cardinal Richelieu. Even more, it would signify that Madame Mauger was likely, some day, to be found in the role of an influential and wealthy widow.

Dumais, he heard, was retiring from the trade to concentrate upon becoming an industrial magnate. A pity, in a way. He'd been a competent man. Francisco would have preferred to turn him, if possible.

Well, you couldn't win them all, as Mike Stearns often said. And, if the rumors of a possible betrothal between Dumais and the sister of Pamela Hardesty's suitor were true? The man had, after all, taken out Grantville citizenship. So who knew? That was a matter for the future. It would be useful to have a competent agent inside Laurent Mauger's various enterprises and not just rely upon chance.

Sighing, Nasi looked at Wes Jenkins and asked, "How much do you know about the circumstances of your son-in-law's death?"

"Beyond what has been discussed within the administration? Or beyond what you may know beyond that?" was Wes' cautious answer.

Respond to a question with questions. Yes, Jenkins might rise farther than he had expected in the diplomatic service.

"Stalemate?"

"I feel certain that you have agents in Frankfurt. Its products are much too important to the war effort that you would not."

"You are correct." He thought back to the last letter he had received from the up-timer he had placed in Frankfurt. Nathan Prickett. Awkward, that he was Jenkins' other son-in-law. All the people in this town were so interrelated that it sometimes made things difficult. Fascinating, always, but sometimes difficult. When he first encountered Grantville, the interconnections had not been so clear to him.

"I don't need to know who they are."

Don Francisco found that something of a relief, under the circumstances. "I received a quite detailed report from one of them who was on the scene at the time the death was discovered."

"Probably didn't tally very well with the official story."

Don Francisco sighed. He had been afraid of that. Perhaps a circumlocution was in order?

"I would appreciate your advice."

"On?"

"Suitability. I have been considering speaking with Christin George and Benny Pierce in regard to those two girls with the incredible motorcycles. Ah. I can never thank you enough for arranging that first ride with Minnie for me. Marvelous."

Wes smiled. It was generally known that Don Francisco now had a new interest in life. He had purchased Buster Beasley's Harley from Christin George, for a price that no one else in Grantville even wanted to think about.

"Minnie told me that Denise didn't get mad; she got even. That he started it. She didn't offer any details and I didn't ask for any." That was as far as Wes originally intended to go. But. "That I would have lost my temper and messed it up."

"You feel no obligation to bring this to the attention of the authorities?"

"I was quite prepared to let the authorities deal with his treason." Wes paused. "That's political. Threatening Clara, beating Lenore-that was different. Personal. Denise and Minnie didn't do anything that I wouldn't have done if I had caught up with him. That was personal, too, for them. For Buster, for Henry. They only did it better."