“Gee, you’re really in a spot,” Idnew said when I finally ground to a halt. “If there’s anything we can do to help….”
“We can’t,” Drahcir told us firmly. “You’re behind on your deadlines, Idnew, and I’ve got three more appearances this month . . . not to mention answering the mail that’s piled up the last two weekends I’ve been gone.”
“Drahcir . . .” Idnew said, drawing out his name.
“Don’t look at me like that, dear,” her husband argued before she had even started her case, “and don’t cock your head, either. Someone’s liable to shove a gramophone under it. Remember, you’re the one who keeps pointing out that we have to put more time into our work.”
“I was talking about cutting back on your personal appearances,” Idnew argued. “Besides, this is important.”
“So’s meeting our deadlines. I’m as sympathetic to their problem as you are, but we can’t let the plight of one small group of humans interfere with our work on the big picture.”
“But you’re the one who insists that deadlines aren’t as important as . . .”
She broke off suddenly and semaphored her ears toward her husband.
“Wait a minute. Any time you start talking about ‘big pictures’ and ‘grand crusades’. . . is our bank account low again?”
Drahcir averted his eyes and shifted his feet uncomfortably.
“Well, I was going to tell you, but I was afraid it might distract you while you were trying to work . . .”
“All right. Let’s have it,” his wife growled, her hackles rising slightly. “What is it you’ve invested our money in this time?”
I was suddenly very uncomfortable. Our little discussion seemed to be dissolving into a family fight I felt I had no business being present for. Apparently Massha felt the same thing.