“Jacob, in all the years I’ve known you I’ve never heard you talk this way.”
“Why talk about a dream that has passed one by?
Eunice—Eunice-Johann, I mean—I was born twenty-five years later than you were. I grew up believing in space travel. Perhaps you did not?”
“No, I didn’t, lake. When it came along, it struck me as interesting—but slightly presposterous.”
“Whereas I was born enough later that it seemed as natural to me as automobiles. The big rockets were no surprise to my generation; we cut our teeth on Buck Rogers. Nevertheless I was born too soon. When Armstrong and Aldrin landed on Luna, I was pushing forty. When out-migration started, with a cut-off age of forty, I was too old; when they eased it to forty-five, again I was too old—and when they raised it to fifty, I was much too old. I’m not kicking, dear; on a frontier every man-jack must pull his weight, and there is little use for an elderly lawyer.”
He smiled down at her, and went on: “But, darling, if you wanted to out-migrate, I wouldn’t try to dissuade you; I’d cheer you on.”
“Jake!” (He can’t get away from us that easily!) (You’re darn tootin’ he can’t! I’ll fix him.) “Jake my own and only, you can’t get away from me that easily.”
“Eunice, I am serious. I could die happy if I knew our baby was to be born on the Moon.”
She sighed. “Jacob, I promised to obey you and I happily do so. But I can’t go to the Moon—as an out-migrant. Because I’m even farther past the cut-off age than you are—the Supreme Court says so.”
“That could be fixed.”
“And raise an issue over my identity again? Jacob darling, I don’t want to leave you. But”—she patted her belly and smiled—”if he wants to go to the Moon, we’ll help, at the earliest age they’ll take him. All right?”
He smiled and gently patted her slight bulge. “More than all right. Because I don’t want his beautiful mother to go away for any reason. But a father should never stand in the way of his son.”
“You don’t. You aren’t. You won’t. You never would. Jacob Junior goes to the Moon when he’s ready, but not this week. Let’s talk about trimarans and this week. Jake, you know I want to close up our house—I’d sell it but nobody would buy it other than as land; it’s a white elephant: But two things have bothered me. It has to be left garrisoned, or the Free People will break in despite all armor, and squat—then someday some judge grants them title on adverse possession.”
Jake said, “Certainly. Historically, that’s where all Land titles come from. Somebody standing on it, defending it, and saying, ‘This is mine!’ And lately the courts have been cutting down the period of adverse possession. Especially in city cores close to Abandoned Areas—and your house is both.”
“I know, dear—but I don’t want to surrender it to squatters. Darn it, that house cost me more than nine million, not counting taxes and upkeep. The other worry is what to do about our in-house staff. I’m sick of being a feudal lord—erase and correct; lady, now.” (Erase and correct.—’tart’ now.) (Certainly, Eunice, but I haven’t been too tartish since we got married.) (Not much opportunity, twin—but you’re getting restless. Huh?) (Who is getting restless? Never mind, twin sister, the day will come. But we won’t rub darling Jake’s nose in it.) “I can’t just let them go; some have been with me twenty-odd years. But if we buy a yacht—and live in it—I think I have a solution to both problems.”
“So?”
“I think so. It’s an idea I got during our wedding. Thinking about that farm.”
“Well! Wench, you were supposed to be thinking about me.”
“I was, dear. But I seem to be able to think about several things at once, since my rejuvenation. Better blood supply, possibly.” (My help, you mean, Boss.) (Yes, dear. Same thing.) “Our banquet hall, dressed as a chapel, looked more like a church than it has ever looked like a place to eat. So here’s my notion. Give our house to Shorty. Give it to his church in a trust setup, with Alec, maybe, as a trustee, and also Judge Mac if he’ll do it. Arrange the trust for perpetual maintenance, with ample funds and a good salary for Hugo as pastor. Is this practical?”