"—Quedlinburg, if I can just find the tuition."
"Quedlinburg isn't the only choice, Oma," Annalise said. "I know you like the abbess, but there's the new university in Prague, too."
"It's a lot longer way to travel." Veronica looked stern. "Who knows what Wallenstein will get up to next? And they don't have dormitories. Quedlinburg does. Supervised dormitories. Plus, Mrs. Nelson is teaching there. You know her. She used to be at the middle school here."
"I know Mrs. Roth, too, and she's in Prague. And other Grantvillers. We could find someplace for me to stay, if I went there. Anyway, by the time I graduate, they should have the new women's college in Franconia started up, too. The one that Bernadette Adducci is founding. I think I might like it better."
"Why?" Gretchen asked.
"Well, it's in the SoTF. And it's Catholic. Quedlinburg is Lutheran."
"Saint Elisabeth's won't be a state college," Veronica pointed out. "The tuition isn't going to be any cheaper than Quedlinburg. And they won't have dormitories ready next year."
Gretchen was prepared to ignore the dormitory issue, though it was obviously near and dear to her grandmother's heart. "Do you mean to say you would choose a school because . . . because . . . because of a confessional allegiance?"
"Well, not just that. No, don't go all hostile and CoC on me. I'm not a bigot. Idelette Cavriani is my best friend, and she's a Calvinist. But I'm Catholic, Gretchen. You can believe whatever you like. Or not believe anything, as you choose. But I am a Catholic. It makes a difference to me."
Veronica looked her grimly. "Quedlinburg. If I can find the tuition, of course."
Some one walked up quietly and sat down on the floor next to his recliner. Henry lifted his head and blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes.
"Henry . . ."
"Yep. Evenin', Martha."
She did that sometimes. Just came and sat there, like she needed a little company.
"I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you."
"No, no. Just resting my eyes for a bit. You're always welcome."
"Henry?"
"Yes."
She put one hand on the arm of his chair. "Do I have to go? If they take the others?"
"Of course not, Margie. Sorry, I mean Martha. You're always welcome to stay here."
"I owe Gretchen so much. I ought to be willing to go, whenever she wants me to, and help her with the younger ones. But I want to finish high school here. I want to learn to be a librarian, like Missy Jenkins and Pam Hardesty. Mrs. Bolender says I can, if I do well in school this year and next. I help Ms. Fielder at the public library, already. I don't want to go off wandering to every place in Europe that needs a Committee of Correspondence organized."
"Don't blame you. I was glad to get home myself, this fall."
"It seems so selfish of me."
"Just because she pretty much saved your life, and your sanity, that doesn't mean you owe her unpaid nannydom forever and a day. Which is what it would amount to."
"Okay."
She sat there quietly for a few more minutes.
"Do I have to say so, right now?"
"Naw. Leave it till Jeff and Gretchen actually make some move to take the kids. To be perfectly honest, I'll be awfully surprised if they turn up the week after the election and say they're all set to go with the rest of them."
"—couldn't believe what Annalise said. And that Thea! Cousin or not, she has the brains of a peahen."
"C'mon Gretchen," Jeff said. "Settle down and go to sleep. We've got blessings to be thankful for."
Chapter 29
Grantville
Susan Logsden was happy at Thanksgiving dinner. Grandpa Ben Hardesty, Grandma Gloria, Pam, Cory Joe briefly back from Magdeburg on leave. All with her; all at Cory Joe's dad's cousin Gerrie's. She was Gerrie Bennezet now. Her husband was a Walloon Huguenot who had come to work at USE Steel and then set up his own blacksmith operation here in Grantville.
When they went around the table saying what each of them was thankful for, Grandma Gloria said that she was grateful to Gerrie that she didn't have to cook the dinner this year.
Susan suspected that she was also grateful not to be at her daughter Betty's, this year since things were still a bit strained between Aunt Betty and them—Velma's kids. Grandma and Grandpa weren't at Aunt Betty's because Aunt Betty and Uncle Monroe Wilson had gone to Fulda last month to be Mormon missionaries. Joe and the two adopted children had gone with them.
Grandpa and Grandma would be having pizza for supper with the other Wilsons, the Nisbets, and the Sterlings, leaving the three of them on their own.