“Fine, I’m needling him,” Brandt said, took a sip of his gin and tonic, frowned and went back to the bar to add a splash more tonic. “But after so many years of listening to him talk about the historical import of each election and the PHP’s role in it, I think it’s perfectly fine to have a bit of turnabout.”

“That’s exactly what this Harvest Day needs,” Catherine said. “Another perfectly good dinner from Magda growing cold because you and Dad are going at it again at the table.”

“Speak for yourself,” Wes said. “They never stopped me from eating.”

“Well, Wes, you’ve always had a special talent for tuning out,” Catherine said. “It puts the rest of us off our appetite.”

“I don’t apologize for being the only one of us who has any interest at all in politics,” Brandt said.

“No one wants you to apologize,” Catherine said. “And you know we all have an interest in politics.”

“I don’t,” Wes said.

“We all have an interest in politics except for Wes,” Catherine amended, “who is just happy to coast on the benefits of the family having a good political name. So, by all means, Brandt, discuss politics all you like with Dad. Just wait until we get to the pie before you start going after each other.”

“Politics and pie,” Wes said. “Mmmmmm.” He started fumbling about for his drink, connected with it and brought it to his lips, eyes still closed.

Brandt turned to Hart. “Help me out here,” he said.

Hart shook his head. “I wouldn’t mind getting through an entire Harvest Day without you and Dad tossing verbal knives at each other,” he said. “I’m not here to talk politics. I’m here to spend time with my family.”

Brandt rolled his eyes at his younger brother. “Have you met our family, Hart?”

“Oh, don’t pester Hart about planetside politics,” Catherine said. “This is the first time he’s spent any time at home in Lord knows how long.”

“Last Harvest Day,” Hart volunteered.

“You can’t genuinely expect him to keep up with the relatively trivial politics of Phoenix when he’s grappling with Colonial Union–wide crises,” Catherine said to Brandt, and then swiveled her head to Hart. “What was your most recent interstellar diplomatic triumph, Hart?”

“I helped electrocute a dog in order to save a peace negotiation,” Hart said.

“What?” Catherine asked, momentarily flummoxed.

Wes cracked open an eye to look at Hart. “Is this like sacrificing a chicken to the gods?” he asked.

“It’s more complicated than it sounds,” Hart said. “And I would note that the dog survived.”

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Brandt said, and turned to his sister. “I stand corrected, fair Catherine. Hart’s clearly got more important things on his mind than mere politics.”