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Show •157 "Add four more years to that and you have me," I said. "And what am I in life? A drifter, a bum. A kid." "We were talking about me," Morgan said. Off to our left a crimson-bellied cloud floated over the greening fields, fading slowly to a more earthly orange and gray but still beautiful enough to inflict pain. Jacob came out of the house before the car stopped rolling. He walked around to my side and bent down to the window. "It's Alice. She's here." "Just don't let her cook dinner," I said. "All I've had today is two underdone hot dogs-I was looking forward to a decent meal." "It's no joke. She wants to stay; she's moving her things into Adam's room. She decided that Carlo needs her and since he won't move into her house she's coming here. I tried to talk her out of it but she doesn't listen to me. You know Alice when she gets her mind made up." I found her in the kitchen. A cup of tea was in front of her; William Buckley was on the portable TV. She had been here only since morning but already the room was shipshape; the dishes were washed and stacked to dry, all the , counters gleamed, the old stove was as shiny as a new Ford. The only sign of Adam was a sagging string of dark wrinkled peppers that stretched from one cabinet to the other above the sink. |