Bone Deep by Gina McMurchy-Barber

tell by the way her face was turning red Aunt Beatrix was quickly becoming annoyed with me. If I ever wanted this lecture to end with supper I knew I had to at least pretend some interest.
    â€œWow! So if it’s so rare and valuable why do they sell dishes just like it in the department store?” Aunt Beatrix gasped, like I’d said a four letter word.
    â€œMy dear, the only similarity between this porcelain and the tableware they sell in the stores is its pattern. This willow pattern — said to tell the sad story of two star-crossed lovers forbidden to love one another — has been copied over the centuries by many people.” Then she held up one of Aunt Margaret’s precious plates to the light on the kitchen ceiling. “For it to be truly fine china it must be translucent like this — you see?” I could see a clear shadow of her hand behind the plate. “This is the kind of china enjoyed by kings and queens, Peggy. The dishes sold in stores today are nothing but cheap replicas.”
    Aunt Beatrix went on for another ten minutes, telling me how cobalt blue first came from Persia, that it was the kaolin clay found in China that gave porcelain its translucent quality, and that all the decorations were hand painted — which explained why there were small differences in each plate. She finally stopped after grinding in the fact that porcelain china made in the emperor’s Imperial factory had a nian hao — a Chinese date mark — painted on the bottom. There were only a small number of painters who had this job, so their style could be recognized like individualized handwriting.
    So it was — night after night it was either a history lesson or what Aunt Beatrix liked to call practical life lessons. Like learning to polish the silver, make fruit preserves, and knit. Once supper was over and the dishes washed and put away the rest of the evening was mine. That’s when I read about diving, or the history of the Pacific fur trade, or underwater archaeology — things I really cared about. I especially enjoyed reading Captain Whittaker’s diary.
    In the back of my mind I was also trying to figure out when it would be the perfect moment to pop the question about going with Dr. Hunter to find the Intrepid . Timing for this was everything — which is why I had to make sure I had enough stored up brownie points. That’s where Aunt Beatrix came in. I figured it was impossible for Mom not to have noticed how cooperative I was being with the cranky old history professor. After all, the agony of being her improvement project had to be worth something — something real big.
    One night while I was studying my PADI diving manual Aunt Beatrix sat down across the table from me.
    â€œI wish you took that kind of interest in your school work, Peggy. Maybe then you’d do better on your English tests,” she prodded. I was about to object when I caught Mom’s eye. She gave me the “let it go, Peggy” look.
    â€œAunt Beatrix, you do realize that the school year is nearly finished and the time for trying to get my teacher’s approval has long passed.” Mom shot me a look . Okay, I’ll be quiet … but I’m right.
    â€œAunt Bea, I’m just happy that she is so passionate about this course. I’m sure the skills she’s learning will spill over into other aspects of her life.” That was my signal — tonight I’d ask Mom about going on the research trip. I waited until it was time for bed.
    â€œI know Aunt Beatrix can be frustrating, Peggy, but I think she really enjoys spending time with you. She says you remind her of when she was young,” Mom said as I snuggled under my blankets.
    â€œShe was young?” I asked, trying to look shocked. Mom ignored the question.
    â€œShe grew up in a different time, Peggy. A time when girls had few choices and the main goal was finding a man to marry. Then after