her heels, as though she'd scored a point in a child's game.
The gathering had thinned: Sass had departed in search of her son, Bob Don and Mutt had excused themselves for several minutes, and Gretchen had gone for a predinner stroll. Ipardoned myself from the crowd and headed up to my room.
Candace might have planned to play bodyguard all weekend, but I believed in the direct approach. I'd fetch the profane epistles I'd received and produce them at the dinner table. Make a stand, and make it early. Whoever my correspondent was, let him or her know immediately that I wasn't going to be cowed. If the rest of the family was as shocked as I hoped they'd be, I'd smoke out the culprit early. And get on to the business of fitting in.
Fitting in ?
I stopped with my hands on the stair, halfway toward the third landing. Did I really want to do that with this clan? I liked Deborah and Mutt and felt ambivalent about the rest. But for Bob Don, I would have to make the effort. I didn't delve into analyzing what my attitude meant toward my relationship with him.
I began climbing the stairs again, but paused as I heard voices whispering below in urgency: “Don't walk away from me! I'm telling you, you better do something now. Now!”
Aunt Sass.
“Don't be silly. He's not a threat.” A voice I didn't know, male, younger, calm, with a slow rasp of a drawl not unlike my own.
“If you blow this—”
I stayed still, not daring to move, chastising myself for eavesdropping.
“You're overreacting, as usual. You've got way, way too many emotional triggers.” The man's voice sounded weary, as though he'd repeated this conversation before with Aunt Sass.
I emboldened myself and thudded my feet along the stairs, turning and heading down to the second-story landing. Aunt Sass stood frozen there, talking with a young fellow around my age. He had brown hair, with the trademark Goertz blue eyes. A band of freckles across his nose invested his face with a boyish air. His countenance looked oddly familiar, in the way that an actor sometimes will onthe late show. You know you've seen him before but you can't place him.
I greeted Aunt Sass with a nonchalant smile that suggested that I hadn't heard a word of her demanded murmurings to the young man. “Hi, Aunt Sass. You're sure you don't mind me calling you that?”
“Of course not, honey. You're my brother's boy, after all.” Her lipsticked smile worked itself into broadness. “And I want you to meet your cousin. This is my son, Aubrey Keller. Aubrey, this is Bob Don's long-lost boy, Jordan Goertz.”
Aubrey flailed my hand with an intense grip. His smile lasered me. I was under a mortar barrage of enthusiasm. “Jordan! Absolutely great to meet you! Welcome to the family.”
I returned his handshake with a little less verve—after all, I wasn't fueled by a nuclear reactor, and Aubrey apparently was. “Thanks, Aubrey, it's nice to meet you, too. But, Aunt Sass, my name's not Goertz. It's Poteet.”
“Poteet? You're not using Bob Don's name?” Her eyes narrowed and her voice fell back to a whisper.
“No, I'm not,” I answered, trying not to sound defensive. Not acknowledging Bob Don, I realized belatedly, might seem boorish to my new relations. I pressed onward. “My name's always been Poteet and I just decided to keep the one I grew up with. Seemed easiest.”
“Of course.” She smiled again and I wondered if joy ever evoked her grin. Aubrey's smile seemed warmer if a tad saccharine. I wondered again where I'd seen him before.
“Excuse me, I need to wash before dinner.” I pardoned myself and went up the remainder of the stairs. I didn't tarry to find out who Aubrey and Sass were arguing about—but an unpleasant tickle at the base of my spine suggested it might be me.
I'd secreted the heinous communications in an interior lining of my suitcase. I retrieved them and carefully placed them in the inside pocket of my seersucker jacket. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
The gathering had thinned: Sass had departed in search of her son, Bob Don and Mutt had excused themselves for several minutes, and Gretchen had gone for a predinner stroll. Ipardoned myself from the crowd and headed up to my room.
Candace might have planned to play bodyguard all weekend, but I believed in the direct approach. I'd fetch the profane epistles I'd received and produce them at the dinner table. Make a stand, and make it early. Whoever my correspondent was, let him or her know immediately that I wasn't going to be cowed. If the rest of the family was as shocked as I hoped they'd be, I'd smoke out the culprit early. And get on to the business of fitting in.
Fitting in ?
I stopped with my hands on the stair, halfway toward the third landing. Did I really want to do that with this clan? I liked Deborah and Mutt and felt ambivalent about the rest. But for Bob Don, I would have to make the effort. I didn't delve into analyzing what my attitude meant toward my relationship with him.
I began climbing the stairs again, but paused as I heard voices whispering below in urgency: “Don't walk away from me! I'm telling you, you better do something now. Now!”
Aunt Sass.
“Don't be silly. He's not a threat.” A voice I didn't know, male, younger, calm, with a slow rasp of a drawl not unlike my own.
“If you blow this—”
I stayed still, not daring to move, chastising myself for eavesdropping.
“You're overreacting, as usual. You've got way, way too many emotional triggers.” The man's voice sounded weary, as though he'd repeated this conversation before with Aunt Sass.
I emboldened myself and thudded my feet along the stairs, turning and heading down to the second-story landing. Aunt Sass stood frozen there, talking with a young fellow around my age. He had brown hair, with the trademark Goertz blue eyes. A band of freckles across his nose invested his face with a boyish air. His countenance looked oddly familiar, in the way that an actor sometimes will onthe late show. You know you've seen him before but you can't place him.
I greeted Aunt Sass with a nonchalant smile that suggested that I hadn't heard a word of her demanded murmurings to the young man. “Hi, Aunt Sass. You're sure you don't mind me calling you that?”
“Of course not, honey. You're my brother's boy, after all.” Her lipsticked smile worked itself into broadness. “And I want you to meet your cousin. This is my son, Aubrey Keller. Aubrey, this is Bob Don's long-lost boy, Jordan Goertz.”
Aubrey flailed my hand with an intense grip. His smile lasered me. I was under a mortar barrage of enthusiasm. “Jordan! Absolutely great to meet you! Welcome to the family.”
I returned his handshake with a little less verve—after all, I wasn't fueled by a nuclear reactor, and Aubrey apparently was. “Thanks, Aubrey, it's nice to meet you, too. But, Aunt Sass, my name's not Goertz. It's Poteet.”
“Poteet? You're not using Bob Don's name?” Her eyes narrowed and her voice fell back to a whisper.
“No, I'm not,” I answered, trying not to sound defensive. Not acknowledging Bob Don, I realized belatedly, might seem boorish to my new relations. I pressed onward. “My name's always been Poteet and I just decided to keep the one I grew up with. Seemed easiest.”
“Of course.” She smiled again and I wondered if joy ever evoked her grin. Aubrey's smile seemed warmer if a tad saccharine. I wondered again where I'd seen him before.
“Excuse me, I need to wash before dinner.” I pardoned myself and went up the remainder of the stairs. I didn't tarry to find out who Aubrey and Sass were arguing about—but an unpleasant tickle at the base of my spine suggested it might be me.
I'd secreted the heinous communications in an interior lining of my suitcase. I retrieved them and carefully placed them in the inside pocket of my seersucker jacket. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair.
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