“Monica? Is Bethany ready for bed yet?”
   “Mama!!!!!” Serena had barely opened the door before a small, redheaded girl toddled over to her at top speed. She had just enough time to see that she was indeed dressed in her pajamas before she had to bend over and pick her daughter up.
   “Yes, madam.” The aging nursemaid came up immediately after, looking at the one-year-old in her mistress’s arms with a look of amusement. “I swear, she has better ears than a cat. I don’t hear you until you’re right outside the door, but she comes running before that every time.”
   Serena laughed, kissing Bethany’s upturned face as she did so. “I see. And does our ‘Little Star’ have any other unusual talents we should know about?” “Little Star” was her and Cyprus’s pet name for their daughter, a reference to the star of Bethlehem. And, of course, the fact that she was the star of their lives.
   “Well, she’s learned to walk sooner than any other child I’ve taken care of, and I’ve had more than a few in my time.” As much as Serena had wanted to care for her own baby, they had hired Monica a month after the adoption to help her out. She was old, but highly experienced, and treated Bethany like her own granddaughter. “And she talks like a girl twice her age. But you already know all that. Nothing else, I think. Unless…” Monica paused, unsure if it mattered. “She does behave strangely when I count to her…”
   “When you count to her? What do you mean?” Serena looked from her daughter to her nurse.
   “Watch.” Monica bent down to look Bethany in the face. “One…” she said, bobbing her head to accent the number. Bethany, obviously familiar with the game, mimicked the motion. “Two…Three…Four…Five…” Monica stopped for a split second, but otherwise there was not change in her tone as she said, “Six…”
   Bethany, immediately upon hearing the number, burst out in joyful laughter, clapping her hands.
   “Seven…” Monica continued. This time, Bethany merely smiled, held her hands and nodded in approval. “Eight…Nine…Ten.” For the rest of the numbers, Bethany simply bobbed her head in time with her nurse. Whatever it was that had prompted those reactions, it was obviously linked to the numbers.
   “I see.” Serena looked down at her daughter thoughtfully. “I wonder why she seems to like those particular numbers so much?”
   “I have no idea, madam. It doesn’t happen when I say sixteen, either.” Monica shook her head in confusion. It was unusual, but hardly something to be worried about in her opinion. She wouldn’t have mentioned it if she didn’t think her mistress would want to know about it.
   “Just six and seven, you mean.” Hearing her mother say the numbers, Bethany started laughing again happily, but soon stopped to let out a large yawn. She snuggled up against her mother’s shoulder, and murmured something that sounded like “bed.”
   Serena chuckled at the display. “All right, dear, let’s get you to into your crib.” Cradling her in her arms, Serena walked through the outer play room to the bedroom next to their master bedroom. To someone not used to the family, the rooms were surprisingly bare of toys, but Serena and Cyprus believed in not letting Bethany become too accustomed to being rich. Their daughter was an absolute angel, and they didn’t want her becoming spoiled.
   As she walked past the child-sized table by the door to the bedroom, she saw a handful of childish scribbling done with crayon. Something about them caught her eye, and after she tucked Bethany in she looked closer at them. “Monica, what’s this?” she called out to the nursemaid, who was getting ready to go home for the evening.
   “Those, madam?” she shrugged. “They’re just some drawings Bethany did before you came up.”
   “I meant this one,” Serena clarified, holding up one particular drawing. It was done completely in black, and consisted of two main splotches, one vertical, one horizontal. It wasn’t necessarily disturbing, but it did strike Serena as particular.
   “Oh, that one.” Monica shook her head. “I have no idea. Usually she uses ever color in the box when she colors.” She gestured to the other papers, which were riots of reds, greens, blues, yellows, and every color in between. “But every so often, she does one in black, like that. I haven’t figured it out myself, madam.”
   Serena looked at the picture intently. The spots looked familiar, like something she’d seen once in a dream…“You know, if you use your imagination, this almost looks like a person, and this could be a large cat.”
   Monica’s eyes widened. “Why, madam, I believe you’re right. But that can’t be intentional; I mean, she can barely hold a crayon, let alone draw anything reasonable.”
   Serena sighed. “I guess you’re right. It’s peculiar, though.”
   And when she went downstairs to the library to go over their investments with Cyprus, she carried the picture with her, with the numbers 6 and 7 written at the top, in case either meant anything.
   But it was eventually put in a filing cabinet, forgotten, as they got on with the rest of their lives, even though Bethany continued to love the that pair of numbers, and occasionally draw a woman and a large cat in black crayon.