Melpomene’s eyebrow raised a little at the mention of the rift between Marcie and her own mother, but she was momentarily distracted from saying anything by the arrival of her coffee. She wrapped her hands around the cup and inhaled the scent of the dark brew, looking at Marcie thoughtfully. The short answer was no, but long answers were always more satisfying. “You might stand a chance, if you’re able to impress him,” she suggested. “Prove yourself worthy. It’s not a task for the faint of heart.”