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"Mother... you know I don't like Lothar," you remind your mother with words that make Etna pout. The other women of the circle nod along, murmuring their agreement. You have more to say, however. "I think he's a little skirt-flipping rapscallion who's managed to pick up on Hilde's bad habits, because for better or worst she's the best role model he has. I certainly don't appreciate the sort of art he hangs up around that warehouse he's made his lair. And I <span class="mu-i">do</span> think that Etna could do better if she wanted."
Only Eloise catches that you have more to say as your mind drifts off in thought. As you pause, your mother nods emphatically while Etna sulks, saying, "See, Etna, Louise agrees, that boy's a bad influence. You should set your sights on a good kid, like the Martel boy. He's-"
"<span class="mu-i">Boring</span>," Etna finishes for your mother. "Why would I wanna be with a guy who's just doing what his dad did because his dad did it? If he doesn't love his trade, how could he ever love his family?"
That gets a gasp out of some of the women. Mrs. Martel does not knit; she bakes pastries. Even so, there's a gap that Etna just leapt over, between saying that the boys her age mostly bored her, and calling out the son of a woman everyone in this room considered a friend. Even you, who avoids the henhouse politics of the knitting circle, know that's a taboo.
"<span class="mu-i">Etna!</span>" your mother sounds aghast. "Don't say such things! I raised you better than that."
"Hmph! Well maybe you should stop treating Lo like he's some sorta crook," Etna declares, looking away from your mother and back to her sweater.
You mother gives an exasperated sigh and returns to her own work, both she and Etna refusing to look at one another. Eloise looks expectantly at you, and she doesn't need to say anything for you to know what she wants. It took you a bit to think, and their back and forth didn't help you find your words all that much. It takes you another quick moment to break the silence that has settled.
"You know, there are two things I know for certain about Lothar," you say. Your mother looks expectant, as if she believes your words will get Etna to see reason. Etna looks a touch betrayed, thinking you're just going to call her boy a troublemaker. "Hilde thinks he's a good kid, and she knows him a lot better than I do, so I'll defer to her judgment on that even if I don't like him. He's a good storyteller, too, if he's the one writing 'Sir Bourrache'."
The sound of knitting needles furiously tapping fills the air as your mother reminds you that, "Storytellers don't make good coin, Louise."
