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She smiles softly as she takes the last piece of grilled fruit “This is cooked to perfection love…”"Thanks dear." He smiles at her softly “Your most welcome… Now… I’m very tired, shall we go to bed…?” She smiles sweetly at him "Why not." He stands and helps her up, softly guiding her to the tower She leans against him “I love you Shan…”"I love you too Anisa." He kisses her softly as he opens the door "Night dear." With her head on his chest Anisa falls into a dreamless sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Shan stirs about in the kitchen setting up a meal, he sighs “If only I could remember, I feel it there. It’s pressing against my skull but I just can’t reach it.” Shan shakes his head, soft light glowing from his eyes as tears drop softly away from them “Oh well… Guess I should finish and return to Anisa.” He does so and gently places himself back under the warmth of her body . Her discussions with the staff of the Carter Clan in Arizona had given her sufficient warning that family members tended to go directly to the point and not allow anything to get in their way. The challenge for the staff was to make sure that not very many things got in their way.Charlie said, “Let me make some telephone calls, and get back to you.”“Okay,” Betsy said, right before bolting out of the room.Charlie went to the website and examined the web pages presenting the University’s application process. It looked like the earliest that Betsy could get into the school was nine months from now. A new term was about to start and it appeared that processing the application would take her into the next term.She called the admissions office and got the generic answer that the application schedule was on the website and they couldn’t make exceptions for anyone. Of course, Charlie knew that organizations like that made exceptions on a regular basis. In the worst case, Betsy could show up.
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There was a pause. “I believe you were going to say something,” Geeta said. The sheen of sweat on the investigator’s forehead glistened. He licked his lips, a quick and involuntary movement like a lizard’s. He looked down at his papers and cleared his throat.“It’s called a conflict of interest, Ms. Gudapati. You traded the same stock as your customer.”“And tell me exactly what is a conflict of interest?”This simple question stumped the investigator. “Well, you know, there’s no precise definition. It’s when there’s a, you know, conflict, and you disregard it. And buying the exact same stock as your customer, and on the exact same day: I’d call that a conflict. Wouldn’t you?”Geeta smiled. “Suppose I’d sold a stock on the same day as I’d bought it for my customer. Would that be a conflict?” The investigator’s brow furrowed as he considered the question.“Well, maybe, maybe not. It depends.”“On what?” said Geeta, her tone that of an ingenue eager to learn from someone older and wiser.“On.

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