Page 71 of Eat My Moon Dust
“You’ve really outdone yourself,dolce.”
“Thanks, Marcella. I couldn’t have done it without your backing.” She gave me a hug and I looked up at Zufi. “Or Hunar. He’s been invaluable.”
Zufi’s mane curled with reserved amusement as Marcella hummed with agreement. “Ambassador Zufi has told me as much.”
“I bet he did.” I couldn’t help the dry note in my tone.
“He’s a wonderful man, once you get past his prickly exterior,” the slimy jerk said, as if we shared a secret. “And he has big plans for this colony. Aspirations you inspired, no doubt.”
I scowled at him over Marcella’s thin shoulder. Just days ago, he’d been ready to kick Hunar out. I glanced at his tendrils suspiciously, expecting him to get some satisfaction out of how my pheromones had changed or something equally invasive, but they swayed contentedly behind his shoulders.
“Now! I’m going to put my ornament on the tree. Which branch is the most visible?” Marcella asked with glee, holding out an ornament that looked like a wheel of parmigiano surrounded by a tiny tinsel wreath.
I directed her to the largest one, three branches away, and she wandered off, giving people hugs and cheek smooches and all the things Marcella always did, stealing the show with her vibrance. When Zufi cleared his throat, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Christmas was supposed to be about coming together, not huffing childishly at the man that nearly stole my Scrooge away.
“May I also put an ornament on theKrismistree?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said with a pinch of fake pep as I sent three smaller branches back to their spots on the tree trunk and brought down three more, substantially larger. I pointed to the one on my left. “That one’s best, if you want a photo op for your office.”
“That’s alright. Mine is something personal.” He slid in next to me among the throngs of Renatans surrounding the new branches and held out a panoramic plank ofbiriawood burned with six photorealistic portraits and names. I took the ornament from him, its silky ribbon pooling in my palm. “My spats.”
“You have kids?”
He smiled sadly. “Two broods. My youngest three left their guardianships four years ago. It’s been difficult to reconnect with them.”
“Guardianships are like foster homes?” I guessed, having heard Hunar talk about them.
“More like permanent boarding school communities.” The ambassador took the ornament back and looked for a good spot to hang it. “There’s a human saying that translates perfectly into Dharateen.”
“It takes a village?”
“That’s the one.” He tied the ribbon carefully around a sturdy branch, gaze far away. “It’s an imperfect system, especially for parents that want to be involved but can’t make the sort of sacrifices required by law.”
“Eighty percent of your income…” Hunar had looked exhausted and hollow when he’d told me that in the elevator.
“Among other factors. Mainly, I’m at the mercy of my political appointment. The authority isn’t a bad perk, don’t get me wrong,” Zufi admitted. “But I couldn’t raise my spats without help, so I agreed to what most do and deferred to their maans’ choice of guardianships. Visitations, holidays, school fairs… I saw them often, but I wasn’t there for them. That much is obvious now that they’re grown.” He admired his work, positioning the ornament. “I always thought my goals were worth that sacrifice, but now I’m not so sure. I owe you and Hunar a debt of gratitude for reminding me how precious family is.”
“Yeah, well, don’t you forget it,” I rasped, trying to hold back a slew of confusing emotions. Screw Zufi. But also, good job. And maybe sorry? I should still be mad, shouldn’t I?Watstakats,I was so confused. Grudges always slipped through my fingers like oil, but I really,reallywanted to hold onto this one.
When he finally met my eye, folding his hands behind his back again, his smile was broad and genuine. Of course he could see my anger crumbling. Stupid politicians. “I won’t, Ms Adams. I’ve already apologized to Hunar for the whole fiasco, and agreed to expand the program as he sees fit so that Renata can become more than three home towers hidden in the jungle.”
I sniffed and rolled my eyes. “Fine! I forgive you.” Then I pointed in his face likenokhomipanused to do to me when squirreling my way out of trouble. “Butonlyif you bring your kids to the next Winter Festival so they can see your dumb ornament.”
Zufi’s mane hissed with laughter, all four hands raised in surrender. “I’ll do that. A bit of nepotism never hurt anyone, right?”
“He did what?!” Marcella stole our attention as she scoffed, hands on her hips. “That pompous–”
“What happened?” I asked, Zufi hot on my heels as we joined Marcella and Piro. The poor guy held two heavy machines in his hands, tendrils scrunched up with apology.
“Ferulis,” Marcella hissed, slicing her hand at the machines.
Bajora leaned over Piro’s shoulder with a grave wink. “The chairman sent a gift for the festival. Extra secret, arrived just in time.”
Zufi chuckled. “I’ve never seen the chairman give a diplomatic gift to anyone. Ever. You must be breaking him down.”
“He sent a letter.” Marcella displayed her holotab, scandalized, and lifted her chin to read it aloud. “A gift to the peerless Mrs Bianci on this festive occasion. May the dirt stain your silk slippers and bugs drown in your wine. My sincerest regards, Intersolar Union Council Chairman of Defense, Executive Officer of the Union Fleet, Very Decorated War Hero, Aescopis Ferulis.Sincerest!”She threw her hands up, pacing in a tight circle. “Ha!”
I bit my cheek with amusement as Bajora grabbed Piro by the arm and slipped away. Aavar made grabby hands at them from atop one of the booths, hoisting the machines up.
