We don't often get mail. After three hundred years of experience with couriers of one kind or another, I have discovered or invented every method of avoiding junk mail known to mortal man. Some of the pizza places will still send out monthly mailings, just because we have never offered them their custom, but other than that, the instances are few and far between.

With the advent of the internet, it became even more unnecessary to open the mailbox. Esme and I went through a "bout of sentimentalism" in which we hand-wrote letters to each other after having read a book on Abigail and John Adams.

Still, I check the mailbox every day to ensure that I don't miss an invitation to a benefit or a package. Today was no exception, but wedged in atop one misdirected letter and two advertisements for a new body shop was a rectangular box addressed to Rosalie.

I caught her scent as soon as I entered the house, but Esme crossed my path first.

"Anything interesting in the mail?" she asked after the customary kiss.

"I'm not sure," I said with a smile. "Can you explain why the Mormon church is sending my daughter mail?"

It was the first time in at least six weeks that I had seen Esme look sheepish and she glanced sharply up the stairs. I wasn't sure if she was accusing someone or warning Edward that the proverbial cat was out of the bag.

"I can," she confirmed, "but it is a long story."

"I've got time," I said. "First, let's see to it that Rosalie receives her mail."

The culprit flounced down the stairs a few seconds later. "It came," she muttered as soon as she saw the box.

She didn't sound particularly happy about it. "Yes," I informed her, handing it over. "It came. Now what is it?"

"The missionaries decided to call on us," Esme said reprovingly. "I saw no harming in letting them in for a few minutes and they looked exhausted."

"They were complete idiots," Rosalie added unhelpfully. "They didn't have a clue how to answer our questions."

From the look on Esme's face, I could only imagine what sorts of questions Rosalie had expected the Elders to answer. This might explain the slightly nervous tension that I thought I'd imagined a week ago; Edward had refused to explain it, but he hadn't denied its presence.

"I had to show them out in order to do damage control," Esme added. "Not wanting to be rude, I asked if they had any materials they could leave with us. They offered a card for a free video and as part of Rosalie and Emmett's punishment, I suggested that they request it. That is one of the results."

Before I could ask about the other results or the remainder of their punishment, the house phone rang. We waited for it to go to the answering machine, since I was not going to let Rosalie off the hook just yet.

"Hello, Cullens," Tanya purred into the receiver. "It's polar bear season in Alaska and we haven't seen you in ages. Won't you call and let us know when you'll be taking advantage of our hospitality? We all miss you and the humans around here are so dull...

"Oh, before I forget, Rosalie, some friends of yours came by. We're not much for religion, but they were good for an afternoon's entertainment. Thanks for thinking of us, but they sent girls. Next time, could you at least find some young, nubile, manly Jehovah's Witnesses or something? Thanks. Hope you're doing well and call us. Goodbye."

The recording clicked off and I attempted to speak, but my jaw was still hanging open. Esme was looking appropriately smug that I was not taking this lightly.

"You sent the missionaries to Tanya's?" I demanded.

"I thought it would be a good learning experience for them," she said unblushingly. "It could have been worse."

I wasn't ready to contemplate how it could have been worse, but I knew Tanya's clan well. It wouldn't take much imagination once I thought about it.

"You're not mad, are you?" Rosalie pouted.

"Mad isn't the word for it," I said. "Astonished..."

"Mortified," Esme suggested. "What possessed you to dishonor those missionaries in the first place is far beyond me."

Rosalie tilted her chin defiantly. "It's Emmett's fault, too," she pointed out. "He was the one who wanted to know about the afterlife of the undead."

I had the feeling that, if I were still human, I would be getting a tension at this moment. Instead, I felt simply exasperated.

"All right," I said sternly. "I am not angry that you drove off the missionaries. I have done that myself."

"Really," Esme said.

"Yes," I said. "In 1837, I spent a journey to England next door to Orson Hyde and Heber C. Kimball. They tried for the entire time to convert me, but never succeeded. I treated them civilly, however.

"And that," I concluded, "is the difference between my story and yours. You treated them with disrespect, which embarrassed your mother. When expected to make amends, you made things worse. If it would do any good, I would send you to your room."

"What are you going to do instead?" she challenged, though her eyes betrayed a hint of anxiety.

Esme folded her arms over her chest. It had been about twenty-five years since there had been a need for disciplinary action in this household and I wasn't about to foul it up.

"We're going hunting this weekend," I reminded them both. "I will be staying with both you and Emmett for the duration of the trip."

Esme's eyebrow quirked upward in disapproval and Rosalie smirked at only being forced to endure a chaperone. Fortunately, I wasn't done yet.

"You and Emmett will be sitting calmly and working out the terms of your apology to your mother and the Denali coven," I explained. "In the meantime, the others will hunt down scrawny rabbits and bring them to you."

Rosalie's expression hardened. I was taking all of the fun out of a night out and making her eat the vampire equivalent of Ramen. It was tantamount to sending her to her room without supper.

"Is that satisfactory?" I asked Esme, turning to her to find that her eyebrow had lowered again.

"For now," she agreed.

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Can I go, now?"

"Absolutely not," I countered. "Esme, get the others and bring them to the living room."

"Alice and Jasper were about to leave," she pointed out. "Will this take long?"

"No," I said with a smile. "If I remember this video correctly, it should take about fifteen minutes for us to all watch it. It'll be over before you know it."