“Wait a minute,” Kate said, any outward calmness of demeanor she had managed to assume before arriving at the Niniltna Native Association building that morning instantly deserting her. “I said I’d be on the board. I didn’t say I’d be chairman.”

“You’re the only one who could be, girl.” Old Sam looked at Harvey, who scowled at the top of the round table occupying center stage in the Association board room. “The only other candidate failed to gather a majority.”

“We didn’t even vote yet!”

“The board had an ad hoc meeting last night.”

“Nobody told me! I’m on the board!”

Old Sam gave Harvey a sardonic look from beneath bristly brows. “Can’t understand that.”

“Anyway,” Kate said, feeling desperate and not working real hard to conceal it, “I thought the shareholders vote on who’s chairman. The same way we vote on board members.”

Demetri, a short, stocky man with dark hair, steady eyes and a stubborn jaw, said, “In the event of the death of a current member of the board, the by-laws allow the board to name a replacement. The candidate must be a shareholder and must be of legal age. The by-laws also allow the board to name a new chair. Both are interim appointments until the next annual shareholder meeting, when the entire membership votes to accept or reject the slate of officers.”

“In January,” Auntie Joy said helpfully, still beaming.

January, Kate thought numbly. January fifteenth. Three very long months from now. “I wasn’t here,” she said. “I didn’t get to vote.”

“Wouldna mattered,” Old Sam said, “you weren’t on the board yet so you didn’t have a vote. And even if you were, the vote was three to one,” and he smiled, not at all amiably, at Harvey, whose grinding of teeth was audible.

“But—“

“It’s done, girl,” Old Sam said, and slid a piece of paper down the table. “Let’s get on with it. I’ve got other things to do today, too.”

The piece of paper proved to be the agenda for the meeting, embossed with the Niniltna Native Association logo.

The Association logo had been the subject of a great deal of controversy when the Association was first formed. One group of shareholders had held out for art, another for commerce, a third for culture, a fourth for history, and a fifth for the artist of their choice, usually a near relation. The divergent opinion resulted in a verbal fight at the meeting that very nearly ended in a riot which, legend had it, Emaa quelled by sheer force of will. The resulting logo, designed by committee, was a jumbled ball of black silhouette images, a leaping salmon, a browsing moose, a Sitka spruce, a jagged mountain with what might have been a tiny mine entrance halfway up it, a dog sled with the musher snapping his whip over the dogs’ heads, a dancer with a drum, a seiner with its nets out, a gold pan. That many images were, of necessity if there were to be anything written on the rest of the page, tiny and as such difficult to distinguish. At first glance the whole thing looked like a Rorschach inkblot. This had of course pleased no one, but Ekaterina Shugak, Kate’s grandmother, first board chair, had been impatient to move on to more important topics and had pushed it through.

Kate said the first thing that came into her head. “God, that’s ugly.”

Old Sam gave out with a stentorian guffaw. Auntie Joy’s radiance dimmed a trifle. Harvey and Demetri said nothing. Belatedly, Kate realized that all four of them would have had their own opinions on the NNA logo long before Kate was old enough to vote at shareholder meetings.

She looked down at the agenda. Reading and approval of minutes. Reports. Unfinished business. New business. She cleared her throat. How hard could this be? “Okay. Somebody read the minutes so we can approve them.”

There was silence. Kate looked up. “What?”

There was a look of dawning realization in Harvey’s eyes, along with a growing and malicious amusement. “You have to call the meeting to order first.”

“Oh. Uh, okay then. I call the meeting to order. Who reads the minutes?” She looked at Annie. “You’re the secretary, right, Annie? You take the minutes, right? So you probably read them, too. So go ahead.”

Another uncomfortable silence. Harvey settled back in his chair, folded his arms and looked like someone sitting in the front row of a Steve Martin concert, with balloons. Annie looked at Auntie Joy and the two women communed in silence for a moment.

“What?” Kate said.

“You not read your minutes, Katya?” Auntie Joy said.

“What minutes?” Kate said.

Auntie Joy’s radiance dimmed stilled further. “Viola bring you the minutes, Katya.”

“No, she didn’t,” Kate said indignantly.

Auntie Joy nodded. She wasn’t enjoying herself. “Last month, Katya. One U-haul box.”

“Auntie, I—“ Kate remembered Auntie Vi’s visit the previous month. “Cardboard? Brown?” she said without much hope.

“Auntie Vi bring.”

Kate slumped a little. “Auntie Vi bring.” Where had she left that box? She had a vague memory of putting it in the back of Johnny’s truck. It couldn’t still be there, could it?

“And Katya not read,” Auntie Joy said sorrowfully.

“No.” Then Kate rallied. “So what? The agenda says for them to be read and approved. So somebody read them, for crying out loud.”

Next to her Harvey chuckled, a little louder than was perhaps strictly necessary. “The rest of us already have, Kate.”

“So what?” Kate said again. “The agenda says read them, we read them.”

“You see, Kate,” Harvey said, enjoying himself hugely, “Annie sends out the draft minutes of the last meeting to all the board members. Board members read them in advance, so we don’t have to waste our time reading them during the meeting. Then we approve them.”

“Oh.”

Auntie Joy said anxiously, “But we read now. Is okay. Okay?” She looked around the table.

Old Sam shrugged. “Sure,” Demetri said. Harvey heaved a sigh and said wearily, “Sure, why not? I’ve only got six other things that need doing today.”

“Yeah,” said Old Sam with his patented nasty grin, “but this one you get paid for.”

Kate looked at him. “We get paid?”

There was a moment of silence. Annie cleared her throat. “If the board please,” she murmured at her laptop, “the secretary will now read the meetings of the last meeting, dated April fifteenth.” She read them. There was silence. “Oh,” Kate said. “Am I supposed to say something?”

“Ask if there are any corrections,” Harvey said briskly. He even smiled at Kate.

Enjoy yourself while it lasts, asshole, Kate thought. Out loud she said, “Are there any corrections to the minutes?” There weren’t, the minutes were approved, and it was with distinct relief that Kate said, “Reports?”

Annie gave the treasurer’s report. NNA sounded fiscally healthy to Kate, but then she wasn’t the best person ever with numbers, so she resolved to ask Auntie Joy privately.

“Unfinished business?” Kate said.

“I move we table all unfinished business for the moment,” Harvey said.

“Second,” Demetri said.

“Huh?” Kate said.

Auntie Joy leaned across the table and said, “Motion moved and seconded. In favor say aye. Opposed, say nay.”

“Oh. Okay. All in favor say–“

“All in favor of tabling unfinished business,” Auntie Joy said.

“Okay, all in favor of tabling unfinished business say aye.”

“Aye,” Harvey said.

“Aye,” Demetri said.

Old Sam gave Harvey an appraising glance. “What’s this about, Harvey?”

Harvey glared. “Out of order!”

Auntie Joy patted the air with pacific hands. “I say aye, too, Old Sam. No fighting, now.”

“Oh, all right,” Old Sam said, giving in, but he fixed Harvey with a cold and untrusting eye.

Auntie Joy said encouragingly, “Okay, Katya, motion carried.”

“The motion is carried,” Kate said obediently.

“No, you say what motion is.”

“Oh. Okay. The motion to table unfinished business is carried. By majority vote!”

She couldn’t help the note of triumph, and Harvey’s laugh was immediate and unkind, and Kate’s hackles rose. She looked down at the agenda. “All right, then I guess we go to new business. Anybody have any new business to discuss?”

“I do,” Harvey said promptly and predictably. “With the board’s permission, I’d like to introduce Global Harvest Resources, Inc.’s personal representative to the Niniltna Native Association, and to the Park.” Before anyone could say anything, he got up and went to the door. “Talia?” He ushered a woman into the room.

“Katya!” Auntie Joy said urgently. “Point of order, Katya!”

“Point of what?” Kate said.

“Question!” Old Sam said.

“What was the question?” Kate said.