Kit knew only too well how that felt. He cleared his throat, more to gain time than anything. “You’re dead set on this time-scouting business.”
She swallowed. Her eyes, red and angry as bee stings, still brimmed with unshed tears. “I’ve wanted it all my life.”
Once again he cleared his throat. “Things as they are, I can’t say I blame you ….” Then he eyed her critically, studying her for the first time as a potential scout. He shook his head over the visible cleavage. “Best thing to do would be disguise you as a boy, but you’re not really built for it.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean-” Then, hastily, “It’s not real. I mean, they’re real, but I’m wearing stays. A corset. Skeeter bought them for me at an outfitter’s. They really make me look …well, more voluptuous.” Kit, thoroughly familiar with the bio-mechanical effect of a woman’s corset stays, flushed. I’m talking to my granddaughter about the size of her breasts ….
Margo was still talking as fast as possible. “I could wear baggy shirts, you know, to hide things, and my hips aren’t really that wide, it’s just I have a narrow waist ….
Kit shook his head. The kid really did want this. God help us both ….
Her face fell. He realized she must have misinterpreted that head shake. Kit sighed. “All right, Margo. I’ll do it. But under conditions–
Really?” Her voice squealed into the soprano register. Her bedraggled face lit up like Christmas.
”Under conditions!” Kit repeated sharply. She gulped and heard him out. “First, I decide when–or if — you’re ready Second, you agree to do everything I tell you, exactly as I tell you. Understand? And you don’t do anything I don’t specifically tell you to do. If, after we’re into training, I decide you don’t have what it takes, you agree to switch to something else. Time guiding, maybe.