In Which Gennie Does the Right Thing

February 15, 1192

"What did it say?"

Was her mother really likely to tell her that? She'd burned the letter as soon as she'd finished reading it. Hardly the action of someone who cared to share the news.

But hadn't Gennie proven herself trustworthy, just delivering the thing? It wasn't every day that a classmate passed her a note with her mother's name on it and claimed it came from some man wearing a cloak. Every impulse had told her to open it--but she hadn't.

"It... it's not important."

"But you burned it?"

"It was from a friend I hadn't seen in a while." How many friends did her mother have? Surely she would have seen most of them around Christmas. "If your father had seen the note, he might have gotten the wrong idea."

"Oh." A male friend. Made sense, if what's-her-face had gotten it from a man. Stupid! "Don't worry. I won't say anything." Not that her father had much reason to talk to her most days.

"I appreciate that. I'm sorry that I'm unable to satisfy your curiosity."

"It's fine. I guess it's not my business." But it wouldn't stop her from thinking about it all night. And probably the next night too. "Did I do the right thing, bringing it to you? Or should I have dismissed it as suspicious and destroyed it myself?"

"No, darling. You did the right thing. It was best that I got to see it." Her mother yawned--perhaps a little forced. "I'll see you in the morning, all right? I'm quite tired."

NEXT CHAPTER: