No one spoke, and Paulina turned her attention to Oliver and Viola. “You have been the best parents to Amala that she could ever hope or ask for; I know because I’ve seen it, and she’s told me many times.” This made Viola dab at her eyes with her napkin. “But I think you’re being entirely selfish to think you can keep her all to yourselves. I’m her auntie, and I desperately want her company for a season. If she grows weary of our adventures and wishes to return home, it can be arranged. The continent is not so very far away. But I think it would do her good to get away from this stuffy community with all of its bigotry and ridiculous social snobbery. She simply needs to see a bit of the world beyond this place, I think; but someplace that doesn’t resemble her homeland, with its challenging memories.”

Paulina took another bite of her breakfast and said nothing more, as if to let the idea settle in. No one else ate, or spoke, or even moved. Amala’s heart was pounding, and she felt quivery all over. The very idea appealed to her so deeply that she wanted to jump out of her chair and start packing her things immediately. But she wondered what Kat and her parents were thinking.

Amala saw Paulina give each one of them a long, severe gaze, as if to silently challenge them to speak their opinions on the matter. She had certainly set a marvelous example for speaking up and telling the truth about the situation as it really was without skirting around the sensitive matters.

Kat surprised Amala by speaking first. “I would miss Amala more than I can say,” she said, reaching across the table to put a hand over Amala’s, “but I understand.” Her chin quivered and she bit her lip, but her voice still cracked when she spoke, looking directly at Amala. “I know how difficult some things are for you; I try to understand, but I’m not very good at it. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say. I would miss you, but . . . I think Paulina is right. Some time away might be very good for you. If you want to go . . . I think you should. We will need to write letters every day, though, and . . .” She pressed her napkin over her mouth as she became too emotional to speak, and Amala squeezed her sister’s hand.

Paulina turned to look at her brother in a way that seemed to threaten that if he didn’t speak up she might lean over the table and give him a hearty slap on the face.