“Send it to them at once, so they can interpret it. By law, it has to allow me five business days to respond.”
“If they pay any attention to the law,” Rafe said.
The package proved to hold no toxins, explosives, or spy devices, so Ky took it upstairs and faxed its six pages of dense legalese to Vatta’s legal experts. Stella arrived in the next half hour, bearing the translation into plain language, and with several packages. Ky looked at the translation and tried to ignore what Stella was saying to the others. “The intent was to notify you that you must appear before Slotter Key’s Twenty-First Special Court—which has jurisdiction over cases involving a foreign citizen—within twenty-two days, as a formal inquiry into the deaths of Slotter Key military personnel under your presumably illegal command over the past half year, specifically the deaths of Master Sergeant Marek and Moscoe Confederation citizen Commander Bentik. Please contact this office if you need further explanation of the serving, or if you require legal representation. Be advised that any request for additional legal assistance must be approved by Stella Vatta, CEO.”
It made no sense. She’d expected to testify about the events on Miksland, but to a military court. Back on Corleigh, Stella had said the evidence had gone missing and Grace was looking into it. And why a civilian court that handled cases involving foreign citizens? She wasn’t a foreigner; she’d been born on Slotter Key. She’d had a Slotter Key passport, until it was blown up in the original Vanguard near Moray. She looked at the others, intending to ask Stella’s advice.
Stella was handing Barash the wig she’d brought. “This is your wig,” she said. “And if you don’t mind, I need a different name for you, if you’re going to play a cook. What’s your first name? Or your middle?”
“Melisandra,” Barash said. “Alexandrina Sophronia.”
Ky blinked. None of those were common names, as far as she knew. She stuffed the papers Stella had brought back into the envelope. She’d talk to the legal team the next day and let them explain it. She had time. Surely Stella would grant her legal representation.
“My mother read novels from two centuries ago,” Barash said. “One of my sisters is Theodosia Francesca Emiliana. My brothers are equally embarrassed by theirs. We all use nicknames.”
“Mellie? Allie? Sophie?”
“Allie has more common longer names,” Inyatta pointed out. “Allison, Alice, Alexis, Allegra, Alliona—”
“That would be all right,” Barash said.
“Then you’re Allie the cook, and your new papers will say… Allison, I think.”
“Yes, Sera. But—” Barash looked at the wig Stella had given her. “It’s—nothing like my own hair.”
“That’s an advantage, actually. But it will go with your skin tone, I’m pretty sure, and if not we can dye it here. Try it on.”
With the curly red-gold wig on, Barash did look different; even her bone structure seemed changed.
“It’s the curls around her ears,” Stella said. “And the height on top. Not at all military and suggests a very different personality. I’ll take care of her makeup.” Stella pulled out a makeup kit from another bag and went to work. When she was finished, Barash looked not only different but at least five years younger, like someone named Allie.
Stella drove Barash the ten blocks to Minelli & Krimp, the gourmet grocery on Pickamble Street. She already liked the young woman; now, she decided, she’d much rather be driving with “Allie” than with Ky. Allie didn’t mind following orders without question.
She introduced “My new cook, Allie,” to the manager. “She’ll be using the Vatta account to purchase groceries. Go on, Allie, pick up everything on the list while I chat with Ser Vaughn.” The girl marched off, list in hand. Stella smiled at Ser Vaughn. “My cousin and her fiancé are staying with me, and Mother and the children may be back anytime. So I decided to get a cook in. And a man for the heavy things; his name’s Teague. You probably won’t run into him. He’s actually my cousin’s fiancé’s man, but he’s lending a hand.”
“Wise choice,” Vaughn said. “What service did you use for the cook?”
“Actually, a hint from a friend of my mother’s. We vetted her through the business, of course. I don’t expect we’ll need her for more than a half year, maybe a whole year at most, unless Mother takes to entertaining again. She knows that.” She smiled at Vaughn. “It’s good to have a quality grocer we can trust.”
“Of course, Sera,” he said. “And of course we’re always glad to deliver directly to the house, should you prefer.”
“Thank you. She says she’s not used to driving in the city and frankly I’d prefer she not try. But I wanted you to meet her in person.”
“Certainly; I appreciate that. You do know that our full inventory, including specials of the day, appears on CitiInfo?”
“Yes, thank you. But I actually enjoy coming here.”
On the way back to the house, Stella explained the ordering process to Barash. “The manager knows you now. And we have a separate connection from the kitchen that doesn’t go through any of the private servers. They’ll deliver and bill the house account.”
“Do you tip the delivery driver?”
“No. That’s included in the delivery charge. So what are we having for dinner?”
“You said fish, so I chose the best-looking white fish.” Barash glanced at the row of baskets. “I’m not sure how much will be reasonable for us…”
“Not to worry. For all the store knows, I’m stocking up for winter emergencies.”
Back in the house, Stella showed everyone where the kitchen computer was, logged Barash on as Allie, Cook, Employee with an ample per-purchase limit.
“Should she order weekly?” Ky asked, looking over Stella’s shoulder at the store display.
“Not at all. Every day or so is fine. She knows what to do,” Stella said. She was not going to have Ky bossing Allie around on household matters.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next day the new kitchen door and its installation crew arrived early, interrupting breakfast. This involved more people, activity, and mess than Ky had expected: two trucks parked in the driveway and two in the street. Two carpenters, master and apprentice, to repair the door’s framing and supervise the door’s installation by the installers from the company that had built it. Locksmith to install new multiple locks. Painter to match the color of the former door on the new one, inside and out. Stella had left Ky to supervise and explain the new cook’s presence, if needed.
Teague, in the persona of butler, told the various work crew where to park and also stayed in the kitchen while the workmen fitted the new door and a locksmith installed the new locks; Rafe stayed in the security office watching for any sign of official intrusion. Ky sat at the kitchen table, “supervising” Barash, who chopped and sliced busily, packaging the results for storage, while she tried to think her way through organizing some kind of rescue for the others. She left the work crew to Teague. The work crew didn’t seem to notice that the rest of the house was shielded heavily, and by the time Stella was due home, they had cleaned up, taken away the broken door and the boards used to secure the opening, and departed.
In the noise and confusion, Ky forgot about the summons locked away in an upstairs safe.
That night Stella gave Barash her new ID, including supporting documents that already looked used. “This should take care of inquiries. I contacted Mother from the office, via the secure link on Corleigh, so she knows I’ve indulged in a new cook, but not what your real background is. As it happens—and I didn’t know this—she did speak to a friend of hers about needing a cook since it looked like Rafe and Ky would be staying with us. I thought it was logical enough, but I didn’t realize she’d anticipated me.”