The bride listened until the aunt reached for a second piece of cake. Then she set down her cup. "You've spoken for twenty minutes about my body, my husband's character, and the supposed misfortune of our marriage. Is there something you actually came to ask me?"
Her aunt stiffened. "I came out of concern."
"Concern can be expressed without contempt."
The older woman looked offended. "You used to have better manners."
"I used to remain silent when people mistreated me. That's not the same thing."
The aunt stared. For a moment, the bride thought the conversation might end. Instead the older woman leaned forward and lowered her voice. She had heard the bride purchased a large debt, she said, and wondered whether the money was truly available to her personally. Customers might not understand a woman using company resources to support an insolvent husband. Perhaps the aunt could intervene with certain merchants, provided she received a formal role in managing the workshop.
The bride felt her anger settle into clarity. Her aunt had not traveled through mountains out of affection. She wanted access to the enterprise she'd once called impossible. The bride answered carefully, explaining that her business had independent records, authorized management, and professional advisers. There was no vacancy for an overseer who mistook family connection for a qualification.
"You've become proud," the aunt said.
"I've become responsible. They're different things."
The aunt rose in indignation, and the rancher entered from the porch just in time to hear her demand that he control his wife. He looked from one woman to the other, then answered in a voice so quiet it made the insult seem foolish. "My wife controls herself remarkably well. I have no wish to interfere."
The bride had to press her lips together to keep from laughing. Her aunt left before supper, announcing that she would report the conversation to the rest of the family. The couple watched her carriage disappear and then stood in the doorway as the evening wind moved through the trees.
"I could have been more gracious," the bride admitted.
"You offered her tea."
"And cake."
"Excellent cake. I thought you were generous."
She laughed and leaned against him. He kissed her hair, then asked whether she was all right. She considered the question honestly. Her aunt's words still hurt, but less than they once would have. She had not won the older woman's approval; she had simply discovered she didn't need it to remain herself.