She smiled at him abashedly over her fork, then shrugged.She smiled at him abashedly over her fork, then shrugged. "I needed to let her know." Garth nodded. "I don't know how to deal with parents. I never had any." "I thought you still had people who raised you." "Yeah, I had, um, patrons," Garth said, downing the last of a glass of milk that had been set before him. Naiza moved to refill it, but he placed his hand over it. "That's enough, thank you. But they weren't biologically related to me, if that's what you mean. They were paid by my parent's estate." Kiza nodded. "That system is going to be in a lot of trouble," Naiza said. Garth looked at Kiza. "You're right, you know. The political implications of rendering the Right of Replacement tradition null and void are incredible." "Well, we at least averted the war," Kiza said. "Come on. I'll show you around my family's farm." "Wait one second, young lady," Naiza said. "Garth is a guest, but you are my daughter. You will clean your place at the table and help me put away dishes." "Yes, Momma." Half an hour later, Kiza led Garth out onto the porch. |