Read Online The Son of Someone Famous by M.E. Kerr - Free Book Online Page B

on him because he gets drunk! And you say right off the bat that he’s loaded!”
    â€œI didn’t say it,” she said. “I asked it. . . . What do I care if Charlie’s drunk again? I’m not completely sober myself.”
    â€œDON’T CALL MY GRANDFATHER BY HISFIRST NAME!” I shouted. “And don’t say drunk again. ” I slumped down in the kitchen chair. “Look,” I said, “if we’re going to establish Nothing Power around here, it begins at home, like charity. . . . My poor grandfather.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “I am. I hope Dr. Blessing is all right.”
    â€œI’m just glad Billie Kay isn’t here,” I said.
    â€œI’m really sorry,” Brenda Belle said. “Are we still going steady?”
    â€œYes,” I said, “but try to think before you shoot off your big mouth again.”
    â€œI intend to,” said Brenda Belle.
    When a horn honked in the yard, I reached for my coat. The two-fifty I had left over from my weekly allowance was in the pocket. I’d been planning to buy something for my grandfather with it, a bottle of good wine or some expensive pipe tobacco. I grabbed the money and went out to pay for the taxi. So much for his Christmas remembrance, I told myself. He’d been insisting he didn’t want anything anyway.
    My grandfather was all dressed up. He had on a double-breasted pin-striped suit that had seen better days, a blue shirt with a round white collar, a polka-dot tie and a black wool scarf. His coat didn’t match his outfit: he was wearing a short plaid lumber jacket.
    â€œYou didn’t have to come out and meet me, A.J.,” he said, ignoring the fact that the driver was waiting to be paid. “Go back to your guest. I’ll be no trouble.” He was talking in that strange, stilted way he’d written the note.
    I shoved the money at the cab driver. “Enough?” I asked.
    â€œYes,” he said. Then he turned and said, “Charlie, want me to help you in?”
    â€œHelp me?” my grandfather said, as though he’d received a slap in the face. “I’m not in my grave yet.”
    â€œI didn’t mean that, Charlie,” the driver said. “I meant you had a little too much Christmas cheer.”
    â€œNonsense,” said my grandfather. He stepped out of the cab and made his way stiffly across the yard, weaving slightly.
    I waved the taxi driver on and went alongside my grandfather to take his arm. He shook my hand away. “Do you think I’m an incompetent, too?”
    â€œNo, sir. I was just helping you.”
    â€œWell, I happen to hate help!”
    â€œYes, sir. I won’t help you then.”
    â€œI don’t hate helping but I hate help. Is that clear?”
    â€œPerfectly,” I said.
    I opened the door and he walked into the kitchen, standing before Brenda Belle, swaying a bit like some tall Georgia pine shaking in the breeze.
    â€œWhy, Faith!” he said.
    â€œWelcome to Time Tunnel,” I said to Brenda Belle. “Welcome to the Distant Past.”
    â€œHello, Dr. Blessing,” Brenda Belle said.
    â€œYou and Hank know how to laugh,” my grandfather said, “and that’s more important than anything else. Millie never makes him laugh. She doesn’t have that gift.”
    Then my grandfather walked into the living room,stretched out on the couch in his coat, and passed out.
    I walked Brenda Belle up the hill to her house.
    â€œI’m sorry Christmas Eve had to be cut short,” I said.
    â€œHe called it a gift,” Brenda Belle said. “Making someone laugh is a gift. I never thought of that.”
    â€œHe liked your father a lot,” I said.
    â€œI’ll bet he didn’t like my mother.”
    â€œHe doesn’t dislike your mother. . . . He just said your father and your aunt laughed a lot together.”
    â€œBoy, I bet that really