Jenny watched her mother by the fire. She gripped tightly at the little black book wedge between her fingers as her eyes skimmed the page. Jenny looked down at her notebook briefly then up again. “I had always thought women weren’t allowed to read the Kabbalah,” Jenny commented.

Her mother did not break from the book and continued to follow the text cautiously as she answered. “That is an old tradition and the Temple now allows women to pursue the information and wisdom from the Kabbalah under supervision of a instructor from a class. However a woman may feel a certain resentment if she breaks with old traditions,” she explained turning a page as she went.

Jenny jotted down a few notes. Her mother was much a traditionalist and still could not understand why she had left the Temple when she did as she had always remained true to her faith and many of it’s practice. Except for this one thing. The Kabbalah was traditionally not to be taught to women and where her mother respected most bans such as this, her father’s old copy of the small black book was her favourite past time. He fingers constantly turning over the old creased pages learning about the mysticisim and beginings of creation.

Kit arrived late to dinner. Bette and Tina we’re just about to order without her when she showed up, dressed in a deep purple coat and maching trousers. “I’m sorry I was late, I got caught up with something,” she explained. Bette sighed and then placed her hand on her sister’s and gave her an understanding look.

“It’s ok, but I have to say that Tina and I are a bit curious as to what you wanted to tell us,” she probed as Kit placed her purse on the floor next to her. Tina shook her head in complance and order a large lemon water.

“Bloody Mary, virgin, please,” Kit told the waiter. She looked around to the both of them eager for new that Kit was about to bring them. She felt uneasy all at once and then quickly decided, “Well, not now, baby sis. Let’s wait untill we get some food first. Lord knows I haven’t had a thing all day,” Kit clammered on. Bette stared at her sister. They had not been very close growing up. Bette had remembered frequent times where she had wished that Kit had been more of a big sister and less of a vigilante but she was familiar when Kit was trying to hide something from her.