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Aimee's thoughts about the death of her boss were mixed. She believed in an afterlife, and knew that somebody like James would be well served in it. However, she felt bad for his daughter, who she hadn't met until after James passed away.Despite working for James for a short period of time, she knew just about every aspect of his financial life, and she did everything she could to help transfer all of his personal assets to his daughter, and helped Debbie through the lengthy probate process. Money would never repay Debbie for the loss of her father, but it might help her get ahead in the world.When Aimee finally met Debbie in person, she found that Debbie, like her father, was also a good person. The two girls got along immediately when they met, and Aimee easily agreed when Debbie asked for her to be her personal financial manager. Aimee could feel Debbie's sadness whenever she thought about her father, and Aimee's heart went out to her.If Debbie's father had one failing, it was his. A potato. That’s it. No wonder they look like ghosts. Unhappy ones. Of course they’re pale. Where’s the sun, anyway? And it’s not even winter yet.She had hated London. Too many people. Too many horses and carriages. Smelly. Dirty. Noisy. Oxford, on the other hand, seemed to her to be just about the right size despite the mud and the cold and the food. Already home to almost two dozen or so colleges that made up the famous University of Oxford, its streets were full of students from all over the Empire.Gérard was happy at B— College. The string of tutors Father brought from England as she and Gérard grew up had earned their pay and she and her foster brother had soaked up everything they could teach. He was ready for Oxford, had been ready even before their hasty departure with Antoine years ago.Merle Heathcoate, Master Printer, read the sign board outside the shop where Father’s cousin had his establishment. His print shop occupied most of the ground floor. On the second floor were.
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