often—”
“For God's sake, Uncle Mutt! That's private business.” Philip's face colored with anger and I felt embarrassed for him. I resolved not to share any secrets with Uncle Mutt. He apparently served as the family megaphone.
“Ain't no private business involving
my
money in
my
house,” Uncle Mutt declared. “We're all going to put our heads together to get you out of your mess, Philip.”
I happened to glance over at the centenarian in the plush leather chair; a wry smile accentuated his many wrinkles as he watched the exchange. His spotted, palsied hands wrapped around the head of his cane and his eyes glittered with intelligence.
“Thank you, I don't need anyone's help.” Philip glared at Uncle Mutt.
“That, Philip, definitely remains to be seen.” Uncle Mutt steered me away from the fuming Philip and toward the gentleman by the fireplace. Aunt Lolly scurried to him and plopped Sweetie on top of the light cotton blanket that covered his legs.
“Get that goddamned rat-dog off me, Lolly!” the old man bellowed. His voice reminded me of nails raking down a chalkboard. Aunt Lolly ignored his request. She stroked the old man's head absentmindedly and he flinched away in annoyance. She leaned down and hollered in his ear, “Uncle Jake! This here's Bob Don's boy and his girlfriend!”
“Goddamn it, Lolly!” Uncle Jake bellowed back, pressing fingers defensively against the cup of his ear. “I ain't
that
deaf. I can see clearly who Jordan and Candace are.” He offered me an arthritic hand. “How you, son? My sister Mildred was your great-grandmother.” He jabbed a finger toward Mutt and Lolly. “They ain't her kids, though. Praise God.”
Lolly slapped Jake's shoulder playfully—but a little too hard for my liking. She scooped up the offended Sweetie in her arms. “Uncle Jake likes to remind Mutt and me we ain't his blood kin. But we do all the takin' care of him that he needs. He forgets how kind we are sometimes.” A vinegar tone lay underneath her honeyed voice.
“Hmmph,” Uncle Jake said, but he huddled down in his chair. Aunt Lolly crossed her arms, imprisoning Sweetie, and smiled beatifically at him. I took a step back—a sudden dislike of Lolly Throckmorton surged through me. Her bullying tone toward the old man riled me. Her sugary buthard-edged voice reminded me of a candied apple—with a razor hidden in it.
“Well, well, well,” a voice sounded behind us. I turned and saw a tall, buxom woman in her early fifties standing in the library entrance. She was resplendently attired in a brightly flowered blouse with white jeans. Her hair was dyed a dark auburn; her bright blue eyes were ringed with mascara. Under the makeup her face resembled a softened version of Bob Don's. She came forward and pecked Bob Don on the cheek.
“Hello, brother.” She favored Gretchen with a smile bordering on distasteful. “Gretchen, darling. Don't you look lively today?” Her smile rested on me. “This must be my new nephew.” She extended a hand. “How do you do, Jordan? I'm your aunt Cecilia Goertz.”
I shook her hand and introduced Candace while Gretchen trilled, “Sass, honey, I've been telling Jordy all about you and he's just so excited to meet you.”
“Yeah, I can see he's all atwitter over making my acquaintance.” She gave Candace a dismissive glance—one woman boldly appraising another—and turned her attention back to me.
“So you going by Goertz again, Sass?” Philip Bedrich called from his couch. He sipped at his iced tea and sucked on the lemon, letting the rind drop back into the glass. “After all, you do have a plethora of surnames to choose from.”
“You'll probably need to borrow a good name when you go bankrupt again, Philip. I'll loan you one with a good credit rating.” Sass, like the others, gave my face and my body an unwavering assessment. “You got all my brother's best features, honey. Did you get any of his brains?”
Bob Don laughed. “Hell, he
“For God's sake, Uncle Mutt! That's private business.” Philip's face colored with anger and I felt embarrassed for him. I resolved not to share any secrets with Uncle Mutt. He apparently served as the family megaphone.
“Ain't no private business involving
my
money in
my
house,” Uncle Mutt declared. “We're all going to put our heads together to get you out of your mess, Philip.”
I happened to glance over at the centenarian in the plush leather chair; a wry smile accentuated his many wrinkles as he watched the exchange. His spotted, palsied hands wrapped around the head of his cane and his eyes glittered with intelligence.
“Thank you, I don't need anyone's help.” Philip glared at Uncle Mutt.
“That, Philip, definitely remains to be seen.” Uncle Mutt steered me away from the fuming Philip and toward the gentleman by the fireplace. Aunt Lolly scurried to him and plopped Sweetie on top of the light cotton blanket that covered his legs.
“Get that goddamned rat-dog off me, Lolly!” the old man bellowed. His voice reminded me of nails raking down a chalkboard. Aunt Lolly ignored his request. She stroked the old man's head absentmindedly and he flinched away in annoyance. She leaned down and hollered in his ear, “Uncle Jake! This here's Bob Don's boy and his girlfriend!”
“Goddamn it, Lolly!” Uncle Jake bellowed back, pressing fingers defensively against the cup of his ear. “I ain't
that
deaf. I can see clearly who Jordan and Candace are.” He offered me an arthritic hand. “How you, son? My sister Mildred was your great-grandmother.” He jabbed a finger toward Mutt and Lolly. “They ain't her kids, though. Praise God.”
Lolly slapped Jake's shoulder playfully—but a little too hard for my liking. She scooped up the offended Sweetie in her arms. “Uncle Jake likes to remind Mutt and me we ain't his blood kin. But we do all the takin' care of him that he needs. He forgets how kind we are sometimes.” A vinegar tone lay underneath her honeyed voice.
“Hmmph,” Uncle Jake said, but he huddled down in his chair. Aunt Lolly crossed her arms, imprisoning Sweetie, and smiled beatifically at him. I took a step back—a sudden dislike of Lolly Throckmorton surged through me. Her bullying tone toward the old man riled me. Her sugary buthard-edged voice reminded me of a candied apple—with a razor hidden in it.
“Well, well, well,” a voice sounded behind us. I turned and saw a tall, buxom woman in her early fifties standing in the library entrance. She was resplendently attired in a brightly flowered blouse with white jeans. Her hair was dyed a dark auburn; her bright blue eyes were ringed with mascara. Under the makeup her face resembled a softened version of Bob Don's. She came forward and pecked Bob Don on the cheek.
“Hello, brother.” She favored Gretchen with a smile bordering on distasteful. “Gretchen, darling. Don't you look lively today?” Her smile rested on me. “This must be my new nephew.” She extended a hand. “How do you do, Jordan? I'm your aunt Cecilia Goertz.”
I shook her hand and introduced Candace while Gretchen trilled, “Sass, honey, I've been telling Jordy all about you and he's just so excited to meet you.”
“Yeah, I can see he's all atwitter over making my acquaintance.” She gave Candace a dismissive glance—one woman boldly appraising another—and turned her attention back to me.
“So you going by Goertz again, Sass?” Philip Bedrich called from his couch. He sipped at his iced tea and sucked on the lemon, letting the rind drop back into the glass. “After all, you do have a plethora of surnames to choose from.”
“You'll probably need to borrow a good name when you go bankrupt again, Philip. I'll loan you one with a good credit rating.” Sass, like the others, gave my face and my body an unwavering assessment. “You got all my brother's best features, honey. Did you get any of his brains?”
Bob Don laughed. “Hell, he
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