"Five hundred acres might not be big," Catherine said lightly, her tone almost conversational, "but what if there were oil wells on it? What if the land sat on prime real estate?"
She paused… just long enough.
"And what if," she continued softly, "it wasn't five hundred acres at all… but five hundred thousand acres?"
Her lips curved faintly. "Would that be big enough for you?"
"Hm."
The sound on the other end was soft. Amused, even. But it carried weight, like judgment pressed thin and sharp.
"How… confident you are," the woman remarked.
A brief silence followed. The kind that spoke louder than any insult.
"One does wonder," she went on coolly, "whether such a manner is learned... or simply left uncorrected."
That did it.
Catherine laughed. Quietly. Not the least bit apologetic.
Who started this again?
"And how old are you?" the woman asked next.
"Just turned old enough to drink," Catherine replied smoothly. "And I hold two doctorates."
"Two doctorates, at such an age?"
