Scenes from a Preternatural Presidency -- 3. Out of the Office (D)
It was, and stayed perfect next day, with clear skies, warm sun, and a pleasant sea-breeze as the morning heated. I’d done some hard bargaining with the Secret Service, and though Skuffles opted out, uninterested in serial shopping, we actually got to walk down into Amalfi, with an oversize squad including wolves on four legs for the scare value. We visited the cathedral, and more importantly a whole string of food and kitchen shops. The locust swarm of media were kept at least a street away, and the Italian VIP squad co-ordinated clearing shops while we were there, which shopkeepers didn’t mind because I gave them some serious business as well as free publicity, and granted permission to pass on to the media anything they liked so long as it was true. Discovering that permission from our first stop, a macellaria where I went for some spicy meatballs and a great deal of salami, the media flacks wanted everything - which meant they weren’t traipsing after me, so I actually managed, cumulatively, to thin the swarm some. Next was a bakery, then a pasta shop that widened even Jude’s eyes, and after choosing some fresh spinach fettucine and angel-hair for the evening I got into pasta machines with the delighted owner and wound up buying two, one for Kennewick and one for the White House. They were top-of-the-line electric Imperias, designed for smaller restaurants, but with a wolfpack to feed semi-industrial quantities were often in order, and though I’d never hesitated to use dried pasta - you try making ten pounds of spaghetti for one meal - having the option would be nice. It hadn’t occurred to Jesse that you could spend more than three grand on a pasta machine, but I consoled her with a basic manual Imperia that cost less than a hundred bucks and would do small quantities nicely.
“Do I need a pasta machine, Mom ?”
“You should always have one handy, Jesse. Making dough is quick, and a machine means you can have spaghetti in 15 to 20.”
“So does take-out.”
“They don’t use fresh pasta.”
“Huh. Point. It’s heavy, though.”
“Yup. Five or six pounds. Imperia use steel. There are aluminium ones, but they bust quicker. That one will last, if you look after it.”
She was still dubious, but the owner agreed with me whole-heartedly, so three pasta machines were rung up and we headed to a pasticceria for some consolatory chocolate. There were also consolatory sfogliatella, bomboloni, struffoli, and zeppole, as well as apricot-and-apple crostati that smelled so good I bought five for our evening dessert, and we staggered out to resume the culinary odyssey at a charming erboristeria, which smelt wonderful and sold seeds as well as young plants, and - at last - a cheese shop. Very many more things were despatched palazzo-wards, and half-a-dozen large wheels of this and that would be collected with the Imperias to be taken to Air Force One, which had the senior agent shaking his head as he sent the message to the squad guarding it.
“Cheese collection, yet. Ma’am.”
“Count yourself lucky. Even before I was elected I used a squad of SEALs to deliver a fruit-cake.”
He blinked. “You did? Who to?”
“The Andrews. They didn’t have to x-ray it, though.”
Adam and I had a lovely time with another charming owner, and Jude liked his cheese despite a weakness for Pepper Jack. Leslie and Jenna were better pleased with a seafood taverna where we had a well-earned lunch, then it was a pottery shop with many Mediterranean styles on show, a wine-shop (which meant more deliveries to the airport as well as the palazzo), a souvenir place for things to give friends and cousins, and some pricey boutiques where I bought an absurdly expensive but lovely silk blouse for myself, a ditto shirt and tie for Adam, and with Georgetown in mind a double ditto linen skirt for Jesse that hit mid-calf and swirled very nicely but still had sensible pockets. There was another Sally looked at wistfully, and despite her honest protests I bought it for her. Climbing back up the Via Torre delle Ziro she was embarrassed but grateful, and we had an interesting talk about the strains of financial imbalance. Clay made decent money at Kennewick PD, if way below what a good homicide detective deserved, but Donna didn’t earn, and both her father and Clay’s mother had died of very expensive illnesses, meaning with the many sibs there hadn’t been much for either to inherit. There was also still a mortgage to be paid, so though Sally was an only child there wasn’t much jam available. Jenna had more, because both Leslie and Jude earned, and he’d inherited property from a grandparent, while Jesse had a trust fund in the millions from her Heuter damages and the photo of me she’d taken during the Medicine Wolf Accords, as well as fees and royalties she collected from National Geographic. So did all the Freed, with whom Sally spent a lot of time, and even Josh and Sara were on their way, 31st Amendment tees selling as fast as Jesse predicted.
“Mmm. Money’s tricky, isn’t it, Sally ? Your dad tried to pay for your trip, and for staying at the White House in term time, but I headed that off. It’d be illegal anyway. But he’d bite me if I offered charity.”
“So would I, Mercy, however I’m not giving the skirt back.”
I grinned at her. “Rightly, on both counts. And it’s not what’s needed. That would be your own income.”
“Oh yeah. But the only big paydays would be for stuff I can’t talk about.”
“Huh. Not necessarily.” Ideas spun. “Jesse as First Daughter can’t do consultancy, but you and Jenna could.”
“Consultancy ? About what ?”
“Sally, how many humans have met Underhill ? Been given a liferose ? Met Gwyn ap Lugh ? Or Purity ? Hang out with wolves, trolls, pixies, and brownies ?”
She shrugged. “I get that, but who needs the advice and would pay for it ?”
My smile was more predatory than it should have been, but hey, they’d annoyed me and been rude to Asil. “Some Basques and Catalans, for a start. And who knows how many people who want to glamour the Valle de los Caídos into anything else. The Fae will be happy to have better-informed supplicants too, so it’s win-win all round.”
Once we were back at the palazzo I brought all the others into the conversation. Adam liked it, Jesse loved it, giving me a hug that told me she’d been aware of the money issues, Skuffles was amused, and though Jenna had the same instinctive balk at personal profit as Sally she could see the point, while Jude and Leslie were immediately clear that she was more than entitled to it.
“Honey, I’ve asked your advice on the preternatural more often than I can count. And Sally’s and Jesse’s.” Leslie held her daughter’s hands. “It bugs me that I can’t bill the Bureau for it, because it’s saved lives and money, but there’s no way. This would even things up some.”
“Huh.” Heads turned to me. “If Jenna and Sally registered as a company you could hire them, Leslie, and nepotism be damned. They’re two of only four living people to hold a liferose. But let’s clear the decks.”
Swift calls caught a surprised Clay and Donna at breakfast, who after some inevitable chat about hogging headlines while on holiday listened hard. Sally hadn’t yet turned 18, although she’d graduated early and would in another week and some, and Clay wanted to see the wording of any contracts, concerned about time-management, but they were happy in principle. So were Gwyn ap Lugh and Asil, in more than principle for their own reasons, and while both White House counsel and Jenny were very clear that I could not make any direct referrals, even with my hat nominally off, they agreed Jenna and Sally were entitled to offer their expertise and that anyone wanting to contact the Fae, or senior wolves, would be very well advised to hire it. As Asil had already agreed to Let Things Be Known in certain Spanish circles, that was fine, and after kicking it about some more Sally and Jenna sensibly decided they came as a pair or not at all, and would go for it, though both goggled at me when I told them to set their minimum fee at a quarter-million USD for individuals, and a full million for governments.
“If you let them pay peanuts, they won’t listen. Gouge them hard enough to command attention before you say one word.” Adam and Jude both gave thumbs-ups. “Screen for the stupid and impossible before you accept any client. And offer Irpa, or if she prefers another troll, or Ariana, ten percent of every fee to read through written advice, but have a disclaimer in big print that says good faith and all due diligence blah blah, but any and all voluntary contact with fae, wolves, or vamps is entirely at the contactor’s own risk.” There were more thumbs-ups, including Leslie’s. “Talk to Andrea about that, and until you’re up and running tell her to put it on my private account. Once you are, and Sally’s turned 18, you can become formal clients of Jenny’s.” More ideas spun. “If you juggled it right, you could have Georgetown hiring you to lecture Jesse’s class.”
Their faces were a picture, Jesse thought it a hoot, and Adam wasn’t far behind, so I retired to the kitchen to cook up a storm. Most of what I had planned was quick, though some chopping needed to be last-minute, but meatballs needed time, and I did them in a mild - for me - arrabbiata sauce with tomatoes, garlic, and chillies that had all been growing yesterday. While things simmered I grated frozen mozzarella and a local parmesan that came strongly recommended, before throwing together side-salads and a choice of herbed dressings. Half-way through Jesse drifted into the kitchen and gave me a hug from behind, tattoo-Adam giving me a goofy wolf-look from her arm, before leaning against the counter.
“The media are going to say things about nepotism, Mom.”
“Yup. And I’ll set them straight when they do.”
“That will be fun.”
“Un huh. If it wasn’t preternatural stuff I’d think otherwise, but it is, and it’s simple fact that Sally and Jenna have more experience of the preternatural in general, and the Marrok and Gray Lords in particular, than most everyone else. It’s also good politics - you heard Gwyn ap Lugh say he was glad putative applicants could get sensible advice.”
“I did. Does the Fae embassy get a lot of formal approaches ?”
“No, but when Baba Yaga’s in DC she gets plenty of curiosity and not-so-subtle soundings, which is why she mostly stays away, and things will widen fast enough when the EU does recognise Underhill’s sovereignty.”
“That I get.” Jesse cocked her head. “I’ve been thinking that besides fae amour propre, there are probably quite a few half-fae, maybe full-bloods too, who stayed Old World.”
“Me too. Gwyn ap Lugh hasn’t said much, but didn’t disagree he had consular interests. There are fae investments in a lot of European firms as well, Charles tells me. And eco and conservation issues some fae at least find pretty hot-button - old places of power, I think.”
“Un huh. Irpa’s had some things to say about the Brits messing with Stonehenge.” Jesse grinned. “You think the builders had troll help ?”
I laughed. “It’d explain a lot, but people were probably crazy enough even then to drag huge stones for miles to build a whatever Stonehenge is.”
“Oh yeah. A cathedral, in its own way.” Jesse took a long breath. “But I’m procrastinating, so there are two things. If Jen and Sal are incorporated as consultants, how will that sit legally with involvement in any glamour-tattoo recommending ?”
I blinked. “Pass. Is any imminent ?”
“No. A ways off, probably. I was thinking down the road.”
“OK. Why should it be a problem ?”
“Suppose someone we wanted to recommend had kin who wanted to consult.”
“Huh. Cross bridges when you come to them. And keeping the consultancy fee seriously stiff will reduce the chances.”
“True. We still want to talk to Underhill about it, though, to be certain she’s good with it all.”
I gave her a long look she returned, and courtesy was critical with the fae, so I nodded. “Alright, Jesse. Check with Gwyn ap Lugh, and I’ll take you as and whenever. What’s the other thing ?”
“Thanks. And money. Dad and Leslie have just about convinced Sal and Jen you were serious about the fee scale, but they’re having trouble digesting it. Even for Jen a quarter-mil is way more than both parents’ salaries combined, and for Sal and Mr and Mrs Willis that kind of money will be revolutionary.”
“Yup. She’ll want to spend it on Clay and Donna, and all those cousins, and Clay at least will object, strongly. Donna too, probably, though she might be persuadable about some larger-ticket items, and maybe the mortgage. Can’t say about the cousins.”
“Me either. And why am I surprised you’d thought through that far. Advice ?”
“Is a dangerous thing. So are getting between parents and child, and counting chickens before they hatch.” I shrugged. “Then again, there’s no law that says trust funds have to be set up by parents for children. Talk to Jenny, Ramona, and the Freed about that one.”
“Will do, and that’s a good thought. But mostly I wondered if I should try to talk to Mr Willis.”
“Mmm. Tricky. Ask your dad and Jude, but for my money, unless Sally asks you to, leave it to her and Jenna.” Curiosity twitched. “What would you tell him, if you did ?”
“That once the idea of having real money sank in, after the court award, not offering to pick up tabs has been hard, and if you and Dad were getting by on Mr Willis’s salary I’d be pretty insistent.”
“Un huh. I get that, Jesse, and I’ve wanted to throw money at Clay and Donna too, if only to replace that clunker she drives with a hybrid, but you know it won’t do. The consultancy might, though.”
“Might, yeah. You’re the best, Mom.”
I got a harder hug than expected, thought the money thing had been bothering Jesse more than I’d realised, and made a mental note to talk with Adam, but my guests would be along shortly, and all but the last-minute stuff was done, so once I’d made sure the table was properly set it was time to change. I wasn’t going formal, but did shift to a Navajo long-skirted but short-sleeved summer dress with geometrical patterns, while Adam showered and changed into a fresh shirt and slacks.
The PM was prompt, his wife an interesting musicologist, and their two early-teenage kiddos wider-eyed at Skuffles than they wanted to let show but polite with it. All spoke good English, Jesse, Jenna, and Sally soon broke any ice with the kiddos, and the PM got into education with Adam and Jude, leaving me to his wife, who with mild apology wanted to sate professional curiosity about how I’d used music campaigning. I was always good with conversations about the Grateful Dead or the Boss, as were Leslie and Skuffles, while we were all a little amused by the gender-split when they came with me to the kitchen. What I was doing was simple but needed some fine co-ordination, and Skuffles kept up conversation while I chopped bunches of four kinds of basil very fine, mixed them in a big bowl, cooked the angel-hair pasta slightly al dente - not so easy with pasta that fine - zapped it with the grated mozzarella, put the two together, dished eleven small bowls, and added a garnish of rainbow pepper.
Relieved by my own first forkful and general noises of appreciation, I gave my guests a quizzical look.
“It’s hubris for a coyote-girl to cook pasta for Italians, but I can’t not with the fresh food I can get here. Genuine opinions ?”
The PM quirked an eyebrow. “Your purchases today have already boosted Imperia’s share-price, Signora. So would this if stockbrokers could taste it. It is as delicate as I have ever had.” He tasted carefully. “Sweet basil, Thai basil, cinnamon basil, and … Rubin basil ?”
I was amused to boost Imperia and impressed by his palate. “Spot on, sir. The last two are rare in the US, so I bought seeds our earth fae will have fun with. And the delicacy is because next up is some rather sturdier polpette arrabbiata.”
I served them over the spinach fettucine with parmesan, side-salads, and extra chilli available for me, Jude, and whoever wanted more heat. The musicologist went for it, and the older, female kiddo, everyone else was happy with the restrained version, and all offered compliments. We talked food for a while, but when the PM gently slid towards political issues I let him go there, and with Adam added a little wolf diplomacy on Bran’s and Asil’s behalves. Italian wolves having been monumentally helpful in the run-up to Bonarata’s dismissal, they were in good official odour but at odds with both the Vatican, which remained extremely cross and embarrassed by the Bonarata Papers as well as conflicted about the preternatural, and the Northern League, which seemed to think itself automatically appealing to macho wolves, and really wasn’t. Pan-Italian wolf unity was thus a very desirable thing, but as they didn’t have a Marrok or anything like, co-operation tended to be ad hoc. Asil and sons were helping with that, and though the PM was broadly up-to-date Adam and I could give him different perspectives, as well as a heads-up about Fae impatience with Brussels dragging its feet.
With the crostati, which tasted just as good as they’d smelt, we got onto more mundane and green matters, and the ex-Man had been exactly right about dividends because there were things we both wanted from the G7, and other things where mutual back-scratching was possible. Breaking Bonarata’s drug- and people-smuggling networks had given Italian police a huge opportunity against mafiosi they’d gone after like terriers, while the new unconstitutionality of automatic weapons gave my Feebs and PDs a handy chunk of probable cause with our own mafia types, which could make for a nice synergy. There were also intel things I couldn’t talk about with others present, but I could make him an appointment to talk to the Director of the CIA about those, and did, before we got onto NATO, briefly, and assorted migrant crises. The USN weren’t much help with the Mexican border and I had no problem with units that were in the Mediterranean anyway helping around Pantelleria, though the only real answer was righting the economic imbalances and political repressions that drove migrations - on which the US had a truly dismal record it would be good to improve. Jesse had views on that, migrant kiddos being exceptionally vulnerable to every kind of danger, and she was making some excellent sense when the paving of the terrace slammed into our feet and chair-seats into our backsides, glass shattered, the table rattled and shook, with the whole palazzo, and power cut off.
“Do I need a pasta machine, Mom ?”
“You should always have one handy, Jesse. Making dough is quick, and a machine means you can have spaghetti in 15 to 20.”
“So does take-out.”
“They don’t use fresh pasta.”
“Huh. Point. It’s heavy, though.”
“Yup. Five or six pounds. Imperia use steel. There are aluminium ones, but they bust quicker. That one will last, if you look after it.”
She was still dubious, but the owner agreed with me whole-heartedly, so three pasta machines were rung up and we headed to a pasticceria for some consolatory chocolate. There were also consolatory sfogliatella, bomboloni, struffoli, and zeppole, as well as apricot-and-apple crostati that smelled so good I bought five for our evening dessert, and we staggered out to resume the culinary odyssey at a charming erboristeria, which smelt wonderful and sold seeds as well as young plants, and - at last - a cheese shop. Very many more things were despatched palazzo-wards, and half-a-dozen large wheels of this and that would be collected with the Imperias to be taken to Air Force One, which had the senior agent shaking his head as he sent the message to the squad guarding it.
“Cheese collection, yet. Ma’am.”
“Count yourself lucky. Even before I was elected I used a squad of SEALs to deliver a fruit-cake.”
He blinked. “You did? Who to?”
“The Andrews. They didn’t have to x-ray it, though.”
Adam and I had a lovely time with another charming owner, and Jude liked his cheese despite a weakness for Pepper Jack. Leslie and Jenna were better pleased with a seafood taverna where we had a well-earned lunch, then it was a pottery shop with many Mediterranean styles on show, a wine-shop (which meant more deliveries to the airport as well as the palazzo), a souvenir place for things to give friends and cousins, and some pricey boutiques where I bought an absurdly expensive but lovely silk blouse for myself, a ditto shirt and tie for Adam, and with Georgetown in mind a double ditto linen skirt for Jesse that hit mid-calf and swirled very nicely but still had sensible pockets. There was another Sally looked at wistfully, and despite her honest protests I bought it for her. Climbing back up the Via Torre delle Ziro she was embarrassed but grateful, and we had an interesting talk about the strains of financial imbalance. Clay made decent money at Kennewick PD, if way below what a good homicide detective deserved, but Donna didn’t earn, and both her father and Clay’s mother had died of very expensive illnesses, meaning with the many sibs there hadn’t been much for either to inherit. There was also still a mortgage to be paid, so though Sally was an only child there wasn’t much jam available. Jenna had more, because both Leslie and Jude earned, and he’d inherited property from a grandparent, while Jesse had a trust fund in the millions from her Heuter damages and the photo of me she’d taken during the Medicine Wolf Accords, as well as fees and royalties she collected from National Geographic. So did all the Freed, with whom Sally spent a lot of time, and even Josh and Sara were on their way, 31st Amendment tees selling as fast as Jesse predicted.
“Mmm. Money’s tricky, isn’t it, Sally ? Your dad tried to pay for your trip, and for staying at the White House in term time, but I headed that off. It’d be illegal anyway. But he’d bite me if I offered charity.”
“So would I, Mercy, however I’m not giving the skirt back.”
I grinned at her. “Rightly, on both counts. And it’s not what’s needed. That would be your own income.”
“Oh yeah. But the only big paydays would be for stuff I can’t talk about.”
“Huh. Not necessarily.” Ideas spun. “Jesse as First Daughter can’t do consultancy, but you and Jenna could.”
“Consultancy ? About what ?”
“Sally, how many humans have met Underhill ? Been given a liferose ? Met Gwyn ap Lugh ? Or Purity ? Hang out with wolves, trolls, pixies, and brownies ?”
She shrugged. “I get that, but who needs the advice and would pay for it ?”
My smile was more predatory than it should have been, but hey, they’d annoyed me and been rude to Asil. “Some Basques and Catalans, for a start. And who knows how many people who want to glamour the Valle de los Caídos into anything else. The Fae will be happy to have better-informed supplicants too, so it’s win-win all round.”
Once we were back at the palazzo I brought all the others into the conversation. Adam liked it, Jesse loved it, giving me a hug that told me she’d been aware of the money issues, Skuffles was amused, and though Jenna had the same instinctive balk at personal profit as Sally she could see the point, while Jude and Leslie were immediately clear that she was more than entitled to it.
“Honey, I’ve asked your advice on the preternatural more often than I can count. And Sally’s and Jesse’s.” Leslie held her daughter’s hands. “It bugs me that I can’t bill the Bureau for it, because it’s saved lives and money, but there’s no way. This would even things up some.”
“Huh.” Heads turned to me. “If Jenna and Sally registered as a company you could hire them, Leslie, and nepotism be damned. They’re two of only four living people to hold a liferose. But let’s clear the decks.”
Swift calls caught a surprised Clay and Donna at breakfast, who after some inevitable chat about hogging headlines while on holiday listened hard. Sally hadn’t yet turned 18, although she’d graduated early and would in another week and some, and Clay wanted to see the wording of any contracts, concerned about time-management, but they were happy in principle. So were Gwyn ap Lugh and Asil, in more than principle for their own reasons, and while both White House counsel and Jenny were very clear that I could not make any direct referrals, even with my hat nominally off, they agreed Jenna and Sally were entitled to offer their expertise and that anyone wanting to contact the Fae, or senior wolves, would be very well advised to hire it. As Asil had already agreed to Let Things Be Known in certain Spanish circles, that was fine, and after kicking it about some more Sally and Jenna sensibly decided they came as a pair or not at all, and would go for it, though both goggled at me when I told them to set their minimum fee at a quarter-million USD for individuals, and a full million for governments.
“If you let them pay peanuts, they won’t listen. Gouge them hard enough to command attention before you say one word.” Adam and Jude both gave thumbs-ups. “Screen for the stupid and impossible before you accept any client. And offer Irpa, or if she prefers another troll, or Ariana, ten percent of every fee to read through written advice, but have a disclaimer in big print that says good faith and all due diligence blah blah, but any and all voluntary contact with fae, wolves, or vamps is entirely at the contactor’s own risk.” There were more thumbs-ups, including Leslie’s. “Talk to Andrea about that, and until you’re up and running tell her to put it on my private account. Once you are, and Sally’s turned 18, you can become formal clients of Jenny’s.” More ideas spun. “If you juggled it right, you could have Georgetown hiring you to lecture Jesse’s class.”
Their faces were a picture, Jesse thought it a hoot, and Adam wasn’t far behind, so I retired to the kitchen to cook up a storm. Most of what I had planned was quick, though some chopping needed to be last-minute, but meatballs needed time, and I did them in a mild - for me - arrabbiata sauce with tomatoes, garlic, and chillies that had all been growing yesterday. While things simmered I grated frozen mozzarella and a local parmesan that came strongly recommended, before throwing together side-salads and a choice of herbed dressings. Half-way through Jesse drifted into the kitchen and gave me a hug from behind, tattoo-Adam giving me a goofy wolf-look from her arm, before leaning against the counter.
“The media are going to say things about nepotism, Mom.”
“Yup. And I’ll set them straight when they do.”
“That will be fun.”
“Un huh. If it wasn’t preternatural stuff I’d think otherwise, but it is, and it’s simple fact that Sally and Jenna have more experience of the preternatural in general, and the Marrok and Gray Lords in particular, than most everyone else. It’s also good politics - you heard Gwyn ap Lugh say he was glad putative applicants could get sensible advice.”
“I did. Does the Fae embassy get a lot of formal approaches ?”
“No, but when Baba Yaga’s in DC she gets plenty of curiosity and not-so-subtle soundings, which is why she mostly stays away, and things will widen fast enough when the EU does recognise Underhill’s sovereignty.”
“That I get.” Jesse cocked her head. “I’ve been thinking that besides fae amour propre, there are probably quite a few half-fae, maybe full-bloods too, who stayed Old World.”
“Me too. Gwyn ap Lugh hasn’t said much, but didn’t disagree he had consular interests. There are fae investments in a lot of European firms as well, Charles tells me. And eco and conservation issues some fae at least find pretty hot-button - old places of power, I think.”
“Un huh. Irpa’s had some things to say about the Brits messing with Stonehenge.” Jesse grinned. “You think the builders had troll help ?”
I laughed. “It’d explain a lot, but people were probably crazy enough even then to drag huge stones for miles to build a whatever Stonehenge is.”
“Oh yeah. A cathedral, in its own way.” Jesse took a long breath. “But I’m procrastinating, so there are two things. If Jen and Sal are incorporated as consultants, how will that sit legally with involvement in any glamour-tattoo recommending ?”
I blinked. “Pass. Is any imminent ?”
“No. A ways off, probably. I was thinking down the road.”
“OK. Why should it be a problem ?”
“Suppose someone we wanted to recommend had kin who wanted to consult.”
“Huh. Cross bridges when you come to them. And keeping the consultancy fee seriously stiff will reduce the chances.”
“True. We still want to talk to Underhill about it, though, to be certain she’s good with it all.”
I gave her a long look she returned, and courtesy was critical with the fae, so I nodded. “Alright, Jesse. Check with Gwyn ap Lugh, and I’ll take you as and whenever. What’s the other thing ?”
“Thanks. And money. Dad and Leslie have just about convinced Sal and Jen you were serious about the fee scale, but they’re having trouble digesting it. Even for Jen a quarter-mil is way more than both parents’ salaries combined, and for Sal and Mr and Mrs Willis that kind of money will be revolutionary.”
“Yup. She’ll want to spend it on Clay and Donna, and all those cousins, and Clay at least will object, strongly. Donna too, probably, though she might be persuadable about some larger-ticket items, and maybe the mortgage. Can’t say about the cousins.”
“Me either. And why am I surprised you’d thought through that far. Advice ?”
“Is a dangerous thing. So are getting between parents and child, and counting chickens before they hatch.” I shrugged. “Then again, there’s no law that says trust funds have to be set up by parents for children. Talk to Jenny, Ramona, and the Freed about that one.”
“Will do, and that’s a good thought. But mostly I wondered if I should try to talk to Mr Willis.”
“Mmm. Tricky. Ask your dad and Jude, but for my money, unless Sally asks you to, leave it to her and Jenna.” Curiosity twitched. “What would you tell him, if you did ?”
“That once the idea of having real money sank in, after the court award, not offering to pick up tabs has been hard, and if you and Dad were getting by on Mr Willis’s salary I’d be pretty insistent.”
“Un huh. I get that, Jesse, and I’ve wanted to throw money at Clay and Donna too, if only to replace that clunker she drives with a hybrid, but you know it won’t do. The consultancy might, though.”
“Might, yeah. You’re the best, Mom.”
I got a harder hug than expected, thought the money thing had been bothering Jesse more than I’d realised, and made a mental note to talk with Adam, but my guests would be along shortly, and all but the last-minute stuff was done, so once I’d made sure the table was properly set it was time to change. I wasn’t going formal, but did shift to a Navajo long-skirted but short-sleeved summer dress with geometrical patterns, while Adam showered and changed into a fresh shirt and slacks.
The PM was prompt, his wife an interesting musicologist, and their two early-teenage kiddos wider-eyed at Skuffles than they wanted to let show but polite with it. All spoke good English, Jesse, Jenna, and Sally soon broke any ice with the kiddos, and the PM got into education with Adam and Jude, leaving me to his wife, who with mild apology wanted to sate professional curiosity about how I’d used music campaigning. I was always good with conversations about the Grateful Dead or the Boss, as were Leslie and Skuffles, while we were all a little amused by the gender-split when they came with me to the kitchen. What I was doing was simple but needed some fine co-ordination, and Skuffles kept up conversation while I chopped bunches of four kinds of basil very fine, mixed them in a big bowl, cooked the angel-hair pasta slightly al dente - not so easy with pasta that fine - zapped it with the grated mozzarella, put the two together, dished eleven small bowls, and added a garnish of rainbow pepper.
Relieved by my own first forkful and general noises of appreciation, I gave my guests a quizzical look.
“It’s hubris for a coyote-girl to cook pasta for Italians, but I can’t not with the fresh food I can get here. Genuine opinions ?”
The PM quirked an eyebrow. “Your purchases today have already boosted Imperia’s share-price, Signora. So would this if stockbrokers could taste it. It is as delicate as I have ever had.” He tasted carefully. “Sweet basil, Thai basil, cinnamon basil, and … Rubin basil ?”
I was amused to boost Imperia and impressed by his palate. “Spot on, sir. The last two are rare in the US, so I bought seeds our earth fae will have fun with. And the delicacy is because next up is some rather sturdier polpette arrabbiata.”
I served them over the spinach fettucine with parmesan, side-salads, and extra chilli available for me, Jude, and whoever wanted more heat. The musicologist went for it, and the older, female kiddo, everyone else was happy with the restrained version, and all offered compliments. We talked food for a while, but when the PM gently slid towards political issues I let him go there, and with Adam added a little wolf diplomacy on Bran’s and Asil’s behalves. Italian wolves having been monumentally helpful in the run-up to Bonarata’s dismissal, they were in good official odour but at odds with both the Vatican, which remained extremely cross and embarrassed by the Bonarata Papers as well as conflicted about the preternatural, and the Northern League, which seemed to think itself automatically appealing to macho wolves, and really wasn’t. Pan-Italian wolf unity was thus a very desirable thing, but as they didn’t have a Marrok or anything like, co-operation tended to be ad hoc. Asil and sons were helping with that, and though the PM was broadly up-to-date Adam and I could give him different perspectives, as well as a heads-up about Fae impatience with Brussels dragging its feet.
With the crostati, which tasted just as good as they’d smelt, we got onto more mundane and green matters, and the ex-Man had been exactly right about dividends because there were things we both wanted from the G7, and other things where mutual back-scratching was possible. Breaking Bonarata’s drug- and people-smuggling networks had given Italian police a huge opportunity against mafiosi they’d gone after like terriers, while the new unconstitutionality of automatic weapons gave my Feebs and PDs a handy chunk of probable cause with our own mafia types, which could make for a nice synergy. There were also intel things I couldn’t talk about with others present, but I could make him an appointment to talk to the Director of the CIA about those, and did, before we got onto NATO, briefly, and assorted migrant crises. The USN weren’t much help with the Mexican border and I had no problem with units that were in the Mediterranean anyway helping around Pantelleria, though the only real answer was righting the economic imbalances and political repressions that drove migrations - on which the US had a truly dismal record it would be good to improve. Jesse had views on that, migrant kiddos being exceptionally vulnerable to every kind of danger, and she was making some excellent sense when the paving of the terrace slammed into our feet and chair-seats into our backsides, glass shattered, the table rattled and shook, with the whole palazzo, and power cut off.