“Why can’t we just co-exist? I won’t interfere with his religious nonsense, he stays away from matchmaking.”

“Alice!” Bette cautioned.

“Don’t tell me you believe his myths.”

Bette ignored the question.  “Just be more discreet.” Bette was silent for a few moments as she thought. “Well, your concept of the fates is inconsistent with his basic religious tenets.  What has he been doing?”

“He’s been telling everyone that consulting the cards is sinful.”

“Ah, salvation from eternal damnation can be very persuasive.”

“See.”

“But, Alice, the hope of love and happiness is even more persuasive.”

Bette had left her friend’s side a few minutes later when they were interrupted by a couple that wanted to discuss engaging Alice’s services for their oafish son.

Bette had wandered to a small window that overlooked the town square and smiled.

One of the results of running the mill and supervising the farm supervisors, and sometimes the workers directly, was that Bette had learned a great deal about social class, expectations and interactions.  When she had heard about the wedding, she had quickly realized that the bride’s friends and family would not be invited to the festivities.  While it was a direct result of the superiority felt by the party guests, both groups would have been equally uncomfortable had the contact been forced.

There had not been a wedding in the town since the spring, an unusually long gap. Bette had decided that the excluded family and friends should share in the celebration.  To keep it from seeming like charity, Bette arranged that the entire town would be invited.

She did it secretly.  Her workers that had caught, slaughtered and roasted the eight wild boars had been sworn to secrecy, as had the town baker and the baker in the nearest town whose ovens had been busy for more than 36 hours.  The barrels of cider had come from Bette’s storage room.

Many townsfolk guessed that she had hosted the celebration and would thank Bette in the coming weeks when they encountered each other.  Most, though, did not give any thought at all to the source of the festivities.

Musicians played loudly. All sang and danced in the square.  Hands were filled with chunks of bread and large pieces of roasted meat. Mugs were waved, much of the cider within spilling down shirt fronts as the day drew later. Loud raucous laughter sounded everywhere.

Bette looked longingly at the fun outside the windows.