Part 16 (1/2)
Finally, Mom brought out the coffee and rum cake. It was almost over. Uncle Edgar would light one of those two-bit cigars and use his dessert plate as an ashtray, which would give us two disgusting excuses to leave.
”We can go in a few minutes,” I whispered to Ca.s.sie. ”You OK?”
She nodded. ”Just.”
”Hang in there. The worst is...”
”What are you two whispering about?” Mom asked sharply. ”Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?”
My mother, the terror of the cla.s.sroom. Wis.h.i.+ng she would learn, just once, to give it a rest, I scowled at her.
”Kids today,” Aunt Kitty remarked.
Ryan cleared his throat. ”We're not really kids, Aunt Kitty. I can't speak for Dev, but Connor and I are snakemen, with all the honors and privileges appurtenant thereto, and I think...”
”Don't talk back to your aunt,” Uncle Edgar warned.
Connor, Ryan, and I went slack-jawed with astonishment. That was the most the man had talked in years.
”They have terrible manners,” Aunt Kitty complained to Mom. ”Especially Devlin. This is your fault for letting her go into advertising.”
”Hey!” I objected.
”She's not in it anymore,” Mom said. ”They fired her a couple of weeks ago.”
Aunt Kitty frowned. ”Because of that girl, I bet.”
The only sound in the dining room was the clatter of silver on china as everyone dropped their forks.
”No offense, Candy,” she added, ”but this isn't Los Angeles. Hey, do you two know Ellen?”
Ca.s.sie, finally maxed out, started laughing hysterically. But I was not amused, and I pushed my chair back with serious intent.
”Sit down,” Mom ordered. ”Don't pay any attention. Kitty's had too much to drink.”
”She always does, Mother. She's an alcoholic.”
Both Mom and Aunt Kitty froze -- the latter in the act of raising a gla.s.s to her lips.
I bent down to whisper to Ca.s.sie. ”Go get our coats. I'll be right out.” Then, to the others, ”If we're going to hang out the dirty laundry, let's empty the hamper, shall we?”
Furious, Mom started to argue back, but Dad cut her off. ”She was insulted, Martha. Let her have her say.”
”You always stick up for her,” Mom spat.
He didn't back down. ”Because you never do.”
Ca.s.sie had been halfway out of the dining room and stopped to hear the rest. But Jen and Amy got out of their chairs in a flash to get her out of the line of fire. ”It's only safe in there for Kerrys right now,” I heard Amy explain.
Wrong. It was safe for no one. Coolly, I grabbed Aunt Kitty's wine bottle and poured what little was left on the centerpiece, which had a lighted candle in the middle.
Mom interrupted her argument for a second. ”What are you doing?”
”Burning down the house,” I explained, tipping over the candle.
The centerpiece caught fire in spectacular fas.h.i.+on. Cheap wine was good for that, if nothing else. I watched it burn for a second, watched them argue about how to put it out, and then left the room.
On the way out, I saw the snake. It saw me, too, and its eyes glittered ruby-red.
(c) 2000, K. Simpson To Part 14 The Devil's Workshop (c) 2000, M.C. Sak Disclaimers, Credits, & E-Mail: See Part 1.
CHAPTER 14.
December 24 *
Contrary to popular opinion, I am not a monster. The first thing I did the next morning was buy my mother a new tablecloth and centerpiece. Not being a fool either, I left them on the doorstep, rang the bell, and ran.
Ca.s.sie, enjoying this outlaw moment too much, gunned the motor as soon as I jumped in and then took off in a horrible fishtailing, snow-spraying screech. It reminded me of Vanessa doing doughnuts in the J/J/G parking lot. Did she get it from Ca.s.sie, or was it the other way around?
”So much for sneaking in and sneaking out,” I grumbled, yanking my sungla.s.ses off. It had been her idea for us to wear them, even though there wasn't a hint of sun.
”We got away, didn't we?”
”We aren't away yet. We still have to go back tomorrow.”
”We'll worry about that tomorrow,” she said serenely. ”Right now, let's just have a nice day avoiding your family, OK?”
There was no avoiding those people, not really, not in a town this size. But there was no point worrying her.
Yet.
I took her to lunch at the second-best restaurant in town, the best being booked solid, and we got in at this one only because I knew the owner. True, we didn't like each other; she'd been a cheerleader in high school. But she'd also been one of Mom's students and was still afraid of her, so we got a very good table.
”This is kind of a cute place,” Ca.s.sie remarked. ”What would you call it? Country French?”
More like Alimony French; I'd heard that Debra got a bundle in the second divorce. ”Something like that.”
”I might redo the kitchen like this. Would you like to have breakfast every morning with calico chickens?”
”No.”
She shrugged. ”Well, we could lose the chickens.”
”Don't let me stop you. It's your house.”