Read Online Hung Out to Die by Sharon Short - Free Book Online

the kitchen.
    â€œWell, maybe that will be enough to get you out of this backwater and somewhere important,” Daddy said. “No offense, of course, to everyone who’s stayed around here.”
    He grinned across the table at Uncle Fenwick, who glared at him.
    â€œI like it here,” I said. “You may have forgotten, but my cousin Guy Foersthoefel lives in a residential home near here . . .”
    â€œIt’s nice to see,” said Uncle Fenwick, wiping his mouth with exaggerated care, so hard that the paper napkin started to shred, “that amazingly enough the loyalty gene didn’t skip Josie, after all.”
    â€œStill feeling loyal to the plumbing business?” Daddy asked.
    â€œI’ve done well enough for myself. We have a nice house up in Masonville,” Uncle Fenwick said stiffly.
    â€œWow. Sticking it out in the plumbing business got you all the way up to Masonville. Guess you don’t remember the days when you said you couldn’t wait to see the world and have some adventures,” Daddy said.
    Aunt Nora coughed nervously. Uncle Fenwick tossed his paper napkin dangerously close to the female Pilgrim candleholder. “You can’t even get through one hour—after we haven’t seen you for how many years—without starting. You always did think you were better than me!”
    â€œNow, Fenwick, you shouldn’t hold it against your brother that he’s finally successful, financially. You look like you’re doing well enough.” Mama reached across the table and patted his arm, dropping her head slightly to look up at him from under her thick, dark eyelashes. “In fact I’d say you’re still a fine figure of a man . . .”
    â€œMay!” Daddy snapped.
    Mama snatched her hand back, but still smiled flirtatiously at Uncle Fenwick, who turned red.
    Aunt Nora moaned and grabbed Uncle Fenwick’s arm where Mama had touched him. “Please, no . . .”
    Mamaw frowned at Mama, who just shrugged and stopped smiling. I lifted an eyebrow. Hmm. This was interesting. Apparently, there was some history I didn’t know about.
    I took another bite of the delicious cranberry salad. Better to concentrate on that, I thought. Something about it was different . . . that wasn’t, couldn’t be . . . bourbon in there, could it? In any case, it was yummy . . .
    A loud snore startled me. I looked down at the end of the table and saw that Uncle Otis, still tilting back dangerously in his chair, had fallen asleep, his mouth hanging open.
    â€œMy dear Billy’s not here,” said Aunt Suzy, her voice trembling.
    â€œThank God,” said Bennie. “He’d probably embarrass us all.” He scowled. “Just like he did in school.”
    His mother, Suzy, burst into tears. “I miss Billy!” she wailed.
    â€œAt least you have kids,” Aunt Nora said. “We were never able to have any.” She looked at Uncle Fenwick, as if perhaps this was his fault.
    I forked up some potatoes and nearly toppled the plate on the wobbly seam between the two tables. The second the potatoes hit my tongue, I nearly blanched. They were oversalted and underwhipped. Stick to the cranberry sauce.
    â€œNow, dear, it was the Lord’s will,” Uncle Randolph said. “Everyone, perhaps we should have another prayer to calm us down. We need to settle our minds for the Lord’s second coming. The time is upon us, I fear, considering the news from the Middle East . . .”
    â€œRandy, you haven’t changed a bit,” Daddy said, laughing. “You always were so pompously righteous . . .”
    â€œAnd we should think you’ve changed?” Uncle Fenwick said. “You and May—all fancied up as if you’re successful—”
    â€œThat’s because we are, dear,” said Mama, again with a flirtatious tone.
    Uncle Fenwick turned even