blank, he headed to the stairs and craned his neck. ‘‘P.J. Come down.’’ He turned to me. ‘‘Go up and haul his ass out of bed.’’
I gave him a sour look. This wasn’t my house. And I didn’t like being ordered around, though I knew it cost him to ask, because it emphasized that he hadn’t gone up these stairs in years.
Patsy stage-whispered at him, ‘‘Would it have killed you to spend one evening having fun with your cousin? He’s included you and Evan in the wedding party. Do you know how this makes us look?’’
Jesse spun. ‘‘Hang up the phone.’’
‘‘Bad enough you two called off your wedding. Now you’re going to embarrass me in front of my sister?’’
He wasn’t quick, but she wasn’t sober. He grabbed the phone out of her hand.
‘‘Aunt Deedee, she’ll call you back.’’ He hung up.
Patsy punched to her feet. ‘‘Jesse, this wedding is the biggest—’’
‘‘P.J. is in deep shit. Next time it won’t be me at the door. It’ll be the cops.’’
She didn’t exactly sway, but her posture eroded. Her gaze broke from his and, seeking a new target, lit on me.
‘‘Less than a week to the ceremony. Can’t you get him to think about the family for six lousy days?’’
I spoke softly. ‘‘Does P.J. know any girls with a blue streak in their hair?’’
‘‘He has a dozen girlfriends. I don’t know.’’ She put up her hands. ‘‘You work it out with him, Jess.’’
‘‘You’re not listening. This isn’t about us,’’ he said.
Crossing to the kitchen, she opened the fridge and took out a pitcher of iced tea. I saw confirmation that P.J. had been here recently: a pizza box, bottles of Corona beer, and Tupperware containers labeled Patrick’s —specialties Patsy cooked to mollify his food allergies, which was what P.J. claimed made him averse to early mornings and schoolwork and a steady job. Such as his work at the animal shelter, which had been imposed as community service after a DUI arrest.
‘‘Dad drove him before I got up. I don’t know where,’’ she said.
She poured herself a refill from the pitcher. I couldn’t smell the vodka, but of course that’s why it was her drink of choice.
Jesse watched. ‘‘Take it easy. Please?’’
‘‘It’s Saturday. Cut the world some slack.’’
Bang , slam that door right in his face. He leaned back. Then cut a sharp turn and headed down the hallway for the door.
She thumped the highball glass onto the counter. ‘‘He’s my sister’s only son, Jess. And you’re standing up for him. This is just . . . it’s the country club, and your uncle’s colleagues are flying out from New York; it’s so—’’
‘‘Whatever.’’
I followed him. ‘‘You have to tell her.’’
Her voice trailed us. ‘‘Honey, wait. I’m sorry.’’ She came down the hallway. ‘‘I didn’t mean it. You know that, sweetheart.’’
At the step into the entryway he popped his front wheels up and held out a hand. The rise was too high for him to manage on his own. I pulled him up. Patsy watched, her face stricken.
She looked away, blinking. ‘‘I’ll see you at the rehearsal. Okay?’’
He made for the door, but I stood in front of it.
‘‘Patrick’s going to be all right. You’ll see to that, won’t you?’’ she said.
I crossed my arms. He had to tell her. His shoulders dropped.
‘‘No, he’s not.’’ He waited for her to look at him. ‘‘P.J. took your charm bracelet, and it ended up on a girl who’s dead.’’
Her hand went to her throat. ‘‘Why would you say a thing like that?’’
‘‘She was murdered. The police are going to be coming around to question him.’’
‘‘No.’’ She waved him off. ‘‘Don’t do this.’’
The phone rang.
‘‘That’s Deedee. I have to get it,’’ she said.
Without a word, she hurried back down the hall.
Blowback took longer than I expected—twenty minutes. I walked out of the animal shelter, where a canine sonata
I gave him a sour look. This wasn’t my house. And I didn’t like being ordered around, though I knew it cost him to ask, because it emphasized that he hadn’t gone up these stairs in years.
Patsy stage-whispered at him, ‘‘Would it have killed you to spend one evening having fun with your cousin? He’s included you and Evan in the wedding party. Do you know how this makes us look?’’
Jesse spun. ‘‘Hang up the phone.’’
‘‘Bad enough you two called off your wedding. Now you’re going to embarrass me in front of my sister?’’
He wasn’t quick, but she wasn’t sober. He grabbed the phone out of her hand.
‘‘Aunt Deedee, she’ll call you back.’’ He hung up.
Patsy punched to her feet. ‘‘Jesse, this wedding is the biggest—’’
‘‘P.J. is in deep shit. Next time it won’t be me at the door. It’ll be the cops.’’
She didn’t exactly sway, but her posture eroded. Her gaze broke from his and, seeking a new target, lit on me.
‘‘Less than a week to the ceremony. Can’t you get him to think about the family for six lousy days?’’
I spoke softly. ‘‘Does P.J. know any girls with a blue streak in their hair?’’
‘‘He has a dozen girlfriends. I don’t know.’’ She put up her hands. ‘‘You work it out with him, Jess.’’
‘‘You’re not listening. This isn’t about us,’’ he said.
Crossing to the kitchen, she opened the fridge and took out a pitcher of iced tea. I saw confirmation that P.J. had been here recently: a pizza box, bottles of Corona beer, and Tupperware containers labeled Patrick’s —specialties Patsy cooked to mollify his food allergies, which was what P.J. claimed made him averse to early mornings and schoolwork and a steady job. Such as his work at the animal shelter, which had been imposed as community service after a DUI arrest.
‘‘Dad drove him before I got up. I don’t know where,’’ she said.
She poured herself a refill from the pitcher. I couldn’t smell the vodka, but of course that’s why it was her drink of choice.
Jesse watched. ‘‘Take it easy. Please?’’
‘‘It’s Saturday. Cut the world some slack.’’
Bang , slam that door right in his face. He leaned back. Then cut a sharp turn and headed down the hallway for the door.
She thumped the highball glass onto the counter. ‘‘He’s my sister’s only son, Jess. And you’re standing up for him. This is just . . . it’s the country club, and your uncle’s colleagues are flying out from New York; it’s so—’’
‘‘Whatever.’’
I followed him. ‘‘You have to tell her.’’
Her voice trailed us. ‘‘Honey, wait. I’m sorry.’’ She came down the hallway. ‘‘I didn’t mean it. You know that, sweetheart.’’
At the step into the entryway he popped his front wheels up and held out a hand. The rise was too high for him to manage on his own. I pulled him up. Patsy watched, her face stricken.
She looked away, blinking. ‘‘I’ll see you at the rehearsal. Okay?’’
He made for the door, but I stood in front of it.
‘‘Patrick’s going to be all right. You’ll see to that, won’t you?’’ she said.
I crossed my arms. He had to tell her. His shoulders dropped.
‘‘No, he’s not.’’ He waited for her to look at him. ‘‘P.J. took your charm bracelet, and it ended up on a girl who’s dead.’’
Her hand went to her throat. ‘‘Why would you say a thing like that?’’
‘‘She was murdered. The police are going to be coming around to question him.’’
‘‘No.’’ She waved him off. ‘‘Don’t do this.’’
The phone rang.
‘‘That’s Deedee. I have to get it,’’ she said.
Without a word, she hurried back down the hall.
Blowback took longer than I expected—twenty minutes. I walked out of the animal shelter, where a canine sonata
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