"And you're the matriarch. Dispensing maternal advice to Battle School grads."
"Just the ones from Ender's Jeesh who happen now to be heads of state or insurrectionary leaders or, in this case, fledgling deities."
"Just one question for you," said Bean.
"Ah. Back to the subject."
"Is Ender getting a pension?"
"Pension? Yes, I think so. Yes. Of course."
"And what is his pension doing while he's puttering along at lightspeed?"
"Gathering interest, I imagine."
"So you're not administering it?"
"Me? I don't think so."
"Your husband?"
"I'm the one who handles the money," said Theresa. "Such as it is. We don't get a pension. Come to think of it, we don't get a salary, either. We're just hangers-on. Camp followers. We're both on leave of absence at the University because it was too dangerous for potential hostages to be out where enemies could kidnap us. Of course, the main kidnapper is dead, but...here we stay."
"So the I.F. is holding on to Ender's money."
"What are you getting at?" asked Theresa.
"I don't know," said Bean. "I was wiping my little Ender's butt, and I thought, there's an awful lot of shit here."
"They drink and drink. The breast doesn't seem to get smaller. And they poop more than they could possibly get from the breast without shriveling it into a raisin."
"And then I thought, I know how much I'm getting in my pension, and it's kind of a lot. I don't actually have to work at anything as long as I live. Petra, too. Most of it we simply invest. Roll it back into investments. It's adding up fast. Pretty soon our income from invested pension is going to be greater than the original pension we invested. Of course, that's partly because we have so much inside information. You know, about which wars are about to start and which will fizzle, that sort of thing."
"You're saying that somebody ought to be watching over Andrew's money."
"I'll tell you what," said Bean. "I'll find out from Graff who's taking care of it."
"You want to invest it?" asked Theresa. "Going into brokering or financial management when Peter has finally achieved world peace?"
"I won't be here when Peter--"
"Oh, Bean, for heaven's sake, don't take me seriously and make me feel bad for acting as if you weren't going to die. I prefer not to think of you dying."
"I was only saying that I'm not a good person to manage Ender's...portfolio."
"So...who?"
"Wouldn't that be whom?"
She grimaced. "No it would not. Not even if you spoke English."
"I don't know. I've got no candidate."
"And so you wanted to confer with Peter."
Bean shrugged.
"But that would make no sense at all. Peter doesn't know anything about investing and...no, no, no. I see what you're getting at."