“I’m here about your father’s business matters and I won’t be coy, little miss,” says Buchanan, over his game hen. “You see, he left certain shares to you, but as you’re a child–”

“Aren’t you my trustee, Mother?” says Proserpina.

Her mother blinks. “Er, yes,” she says.

“Except women don’t vote on Board matters,” says Buchanan. “It simply isn’t done–yet. Now, I can try to bring them around, but I need your agreement to serve as proxy, see?”

“Perfectly.”

“That’s your pop’s spirit!” winks Buchanan.

“Could you pass the salt?” asks Proserpina sweetly. “I could do with just a grain.”