Not that she wasn't happy to take the shares in exchange for doing it, of course.

She didn't mention the transaction to Laurent. He knew, of course that she had shares in the lava lamp project. That had been unavoidable, under the circumstances. She didn't expect to see any of the money from the shares that he knew about. These were another kettle of fish. Invested somewhere.

But why would Jean-Louis care who Pammie's father was? How had he gotten involved? She shrugged. No telling. Given that all she had ever seen of the price of the trailer in Grantville since she had handed the bank draft over to Laurent were quarterly interest statements, it couldn't hurt to have a source of some ready cash that she could stuff under the mattress, just in case.

A girl had to look out for herself.

Too Late for Sunday

Written by Michael Badillo

December, 1633, Grantville

"Roberta Allene Haggerty! Come here for a minute, please."

"What is it, Momma?" Allie answered, entering her parents' room. The "please" didn't fool her a bit. Nobody called you by your full name unless you were in trouble.

"We need to talk, honey."

"'Bout what?"

Her mother studied her for a moment before speaking. "I'm worried about you, honey. You ate three helpings of meatloaf for dinner, and you've been sick every morning this week." She fingered the rosary in her hand for a few seconds before continuing. "Are you pregnant, baby?"

"What?" Why would you even think that, Momma? I'm still a virgin."

"Because you've been eating like a horse," Momma said. "And because you've been so sick. I can't even see you under your baggy old clothes. Have you been gaining weight?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Haven't you weighed yourself lately?"

"Why? I'm skinny; we don't even have a scale in the upstairs bathroom."

"Well, use mine then." Momma stood beside Allie while she stepped on the scale and waited for the dial to stop.