“You’re not the only one of those in this room, believe me!” Benjamin laughed. “And I’m doing the best I can to change the rules, Allison. I figure that if Cat and Elaine and I can kick the door open and keep it that way, those budding real estate tycoons over there—” he twitched his head in the direction of the game board as it became Jeanette’s turn to cackle in triumph “—are going to make even more changes. For a bunch as conservative as we are, that’s blinding speed.”

“So I’ve seen.”

Allison leaned back beside Alfred and looked up at him with a gracefully quirked eyebrow. He looked back down, and then shrugged.

“You’re the one doing all the social engineering tonight, love,” he told her. “You decide.”

“Decide what?” Katherine asked.

“Whether or not to taint the first hooky-playing Mayhew family outing in two centuries with a little business after all, I suspect,” Benjamin said lazily.

“Something like that,” Allison admitted. “I’d planned on discussing a couple of possible approaches to corrective genetic therapies with you, but that can certainly wait for another time. Besides,” she grinned, “now I know which Mayhew I should discuss them with, don’t I, Katherine?”

“Science with me and finance with Elaine,” Katherine agreed comfortably. “Unimportant things like wars, diplomacy, and constitutional crises you can take up with Benjamin.” Her right hand made an airy gesture.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you all so much!” Benjamin said, and shook a mock-threatening fist at his smiling wives.

“Well, leaving genomes and such aside, there are still a couple of things Alfred and I did want to announce tonight,” Allison said in a more serious tone, and looked over at the card table in the corner. “Miranda?” she asked.

“Of course, My Lady.” Miranda raised her wrist com to her lips—a maneuver made a bit more complicated than usual by the need to reach around Honor, who was now parked firmly in her lap with Farragut clutched in her arms and an enormous smile on her face—and spoke into it quietly. The adult Mayhews looked at one another curiously, but no one said anything for several seconds. Then someone knocked lightly on the door.

One of the Mayhew armsmen opened it, and James MacGuiness stepped into the library.

“You needed something, Milady?” he asked Allison.

“Not something, Mac—someone,” Allison replied gently. “Please, sit down.” She patted the chair beside the couch she and Alfred shared.

MacGuiness hesitated, his natural deference warring with her invitation. Then he drew a deep breath, shrugged almost microscopically, and obeyed her. She smiled and squeezed his shoulder gently, then looked back at the Mayhews.

“One of the things Alfred and I wanted to tell you is that Willard Neufsteiler will be arriving from the Star Kingdom aboard the Tankersley next week. When he does, he’ll be bringing Honor’s will.” A chill breeze seemed to blow through the comfortably furnished library, but Allison ignored it. “Because almost half of her financial and business activities were still based in the Star Kingdom, the will has already been probated under Manticoran law, although I understand the portions which affect Grayson will have to be formally probated here, in turn. All the legal details, investment cross links, and tax options make my head hurt—give me a good, simple chromosome to map any day!—but Willard has sent along a précis, and Alfred and I wanted to share the rough outlines with you tonight, if no one objects.”