“It’s the entail,” the older Caprys sat at Gregory and Emma’s kitchen table. “The extended family is circling.” Andrew thumped the table angrily, “If our son isn’t living on this farm with a wife and child by the time he’s thirty-five, they’ll sell it out from under us. Then where’ll we be?”
“The boy needs to get his act together,” said his father, Gregory, “but will he? He lives and works here but I worry that he’s thirty and still gets called Rhoddi.”
“And he goes off to those conventions, three or four times a year and he takes,” Emma said, her voice dropping dramatically, “costumes with him.”
“Everyone needs a hobby,” Amelia, Rhoddi’s mother and Andrew’s wife, remarked. She looked around the table. “So, have we told him there’s a problem?” Seeing their faces, she suggested, “Perhaps we should.”
“He’s getting married.” Amelia said encouragingly.
“She’s a nice girl and a good cook,” added Emma. “There was a point to those costumes and conventions after all.” She positively beamed.
“She’s foreign,” muttered her husband, “The family’ll try to say that doesn’t count, just you wait and see.”
“She’s half-Japanese and from a farming family,” soothed Andrew. “If they take it to court, we’ll get costs against them.”
Midori Capry was preparing a family celebratory meal. The solicitors were satisfied and the farm secured for another generation. She paused and sniffed the air.
“Ken,” she spoke firmly to her four year old son, “Go back and wash your hands again. Use soap.”
“I can’t smell it on you. Back you go.” He trailed slowly back to the bathroom as the verandah door opened.
She turned and, seeing only her husband, half-changed so her ears and tail showed.
“Hello, love,” Rhoddi regarded his beautiful fox-wife with adoration. “How’s dinner coming?”