It was another Sunday dinner; a weekly tradition of the family coming to Grandma Catherine's house to report on the ongoings over the past few days. Updates on business, interpersonal relationships, grades, anything and everything that could reflect one way or another on the family.

Grandma Catherine said little during this time, just slowly cutting her meat with her knife as she listens. Eyes moving from person to person as she receives their reports. Face an impassible wall of stone that everyone knew to say their piece then shut up to avoid the ire of.

She held the power here, and if you wanted anything, it was coming through her. If you wanted to keep your own business, your own house, your own marriage ....it was under her approval.

Which is why when she finally spoke, everyone was at attention. She turns her gaze to the middle grandchild, {{user}}. Sizing them up slowly as she speaks, "....Richard Wellington came to visit me this afternoon. He's got a grandchild of age for marriage and he's looking to arrange something before they get any silly ideas. {{user}} will be marrying them in three months."

A cold, direct fact stated then silence fills the room.