I told her that it sounded like a very sensible and warm arrangement as I didn't think that most children were so carefully provided for. (In fact I didn't know anything at all about such things.)
"We try to do right by them," she agreed. "After all, children are the purpose of a family. So I'm sure that you will see that an adult joining our group must buy a share, or the system won't work. Marriages are arranged in heaven but the bills must be paid here on earth."
"Amen." (I could see that my problems were solved for me. Negatively. I could not estimate the wealth of the Davidson Group Family. Wealthy, that was certain, even though they lived with no servants in an old-fashioned unautomated house. Whatever it was, I could not buy a share.)
"Douglas told us that he had no idea whether you had money or not. Money in capital amounts, I mean."
"I don't."
She never dropped a stitch. "Nor did I when I was your age. You are employed, are you not? Couldn't you work in Christchurch and buy your share out of your salary? I know that finding work can be a problem in a strange city... but I am not without connections. What do you do? You've never told us."
(And I'm not about to!) After evading her and then telling her bluntly that my work was confidential and I refused to discuss any aspect of my employer's business but, no, I couldn't leave and look for work in Christchurch, so there wasn't any way it could work but it had certainly been wonderful while it had lasted and I hoped- She chopped me off, "My dear, I was not empowered to negotiate this contract for the purpose of failing. Why it can't be done is not acceptable; I must discover how it can be done. Brian has offered to give you one of his three shares... and Douglas and Albert are backing him, pro rata, although they can't pay him at once. But I vetoed the whole scheme; it is a bad precedent and I told them so, using a crude old country expression about rams in the spring. Instead I am accepting one of Brian's shares as security against your performance of your contract."
"But I don't have a contract!"
"You will have. If you continue your present employment, how much can you pay per month? Don't pinch yourself but do pay off as quickly as possible as it works just like an amortized real-estate purchase: Part of each payment services the remaining debt, part reduces that debt-so the larger the payment the better, for you."
(I had never bought any real estate.) "Can we figure that in gold? I can convert into any money, of course, but I get paid in gold."
"In gold?" Anita suddenly looked alert. She reached into her knitting bag and pulled out a portable relay to her computer terminal. "I can offer you a better deal for gold." She punched for a while, waited, and nodded. "Considerably better. Although I'm not really set up to handle bullion. But arrangements can be made."
"I said I can convert. The drafts are for grams, three nines fine, drawn on Ceres and South Africa Acceptances, Limited, Luna City. But it can be paid in New Zealand money, right here, by automatic bank deposit even when I'm not on Earth at the time. Bank of New Zealand, Christchurch office?"
"Uh, Canterbury Land Bank. I'm a director there."
"By all means keep it in the family."
The next day we signed the contract and later that week they married me, all legal and proper, in a side chapel of the cathedral, with me in white, fer Gossake.
The following week I went back to work, both sad and warmly happy. For the next seventeen years I would be paying NZ$858.13 per month, or I could pay it faster. For what? I could not live at home until it was all paid because I had to keep my job to meet those monthly payments. For what, then? Not for sex. As I told Captain Tormey, sex is everywhere; it's silly to pay for it. For the privilege of getting my hands into soapy dishwater, I guess. For the privilege of rolling around on the floor and being peed on by puppies and babies only nominally housebroken.
For the warm knowledge that, wherever I was, there was a place on this planet where I could do these things as a matter of right, because I belonged.
It seemed like a bargain to me.
As soon as the shuttle floated off, I phoned ahead, got Vickie, and, once she stopped squealing, gave her my ETA. I had intended to call from the Kiwi Lines lounge in Auckland port but my curly wolf, Captain Ian, had used up the time. No matter-although the shuttle floats just short of the speed of sound, a stop at Wellington and a stop at Nelson uses up enough time that I thought someone would meet me. I hoped so.
Everybody met me. Well, not quite everybody. We're licensed to own an APV because we raise sheep and cattle and need power transportation. But we aren't supposed to use it in town. Brian did so anyhow and a working majority of our big family was spilling out the sides of that big farm floatwagon.
Most of a year since my last visit home, over twice as long as any such period earlier-bad. Children can grow away from you in that length of time. I was most careful about names and made sure that I checked off everyone in my mind. All present save Ellen, who was hardly a child-eleven when they married me, she was a young lady now, university age. Anita and Lispeth were at home, hurrying together my welcome-home feast... and again I would be gently scolded for not having given them warning and again I would try to explain that, in my work, once I was free to leave, it was better to grab the first SB than it was to try to get a call through-did I need an appointment to come to my own home?
Shortly I was down on the floor with kids all around me. Mister
Underfoot, a gangly young cat when I first met him, waited for opportunity to greet me with dignity befitting his status as senior cat, elderly, fat, and slow. He looked me over carefully, brushed against me, and buzzed. I was home.
After a time I asked, "Where is Ellen? Still in Auckland? I thought university was closed for vacation now." I looked right at Anita when I said this but she appeared not to hear me. Getting hard of hearing? Surely not.
"Marjie-" Brian's voice-I looked around. He did not speak and his face held no expression. He barely shook his head.
(Ellen a taboo topic? What is this, Brian? I tabled it until I could speak to him privately. Anita has always maintained that she loves all our children equally, whether they are her own bio children or not. Oh, certainly! Save that her special interest in Ellen was always clear to everyone within reach of her voice.)
Later that night when the house was settling down and Bertie and I were about to go to bed (under some lottery system in which our teasing darlings always insisted that the loser had to spend the night with me), Brian tapped at the door and came in.
Bertie said, "It's all right. You can leave. I can take my punishment."
"Stow it, Bert. Have you told Marj about Ellen?"
"Not yet."
"Then fill her in. Sweetheart, Ellen got married without Anita's blessing... and Anita is furious about it. So it's best not to mention Ellen around Anita. Verb. sap., eh? Now I must run before she misses me."
"Aren't you permitted to come kiss me good-night? Or to stay here for that matter? Aren't you my husband, too?"
"Yes, of course, dear. But Anita is touchy as can be at present and there is no point in getting her stirred up."
Brian kissed us good-night and left. I said, "What is this, Bertie? Why shouldn't Ellen marry anyone she wishes to marry? She is old enough to make her own decisions."