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Show -92 then turned back to her niece. "It's shabby," she said. She fingered my tie. "And nobody wears knit ties any more." "That man over there in the cowboy suit looks a lot worse than I do," I said. "Who? That man? That's John Benbow," Maybelle said. "When you've done as well as he has you can dress any way you want to." Having given the last word Maybelle marched off. I stayed where I was and watched Benbow, curious to see what that successful madman looked like: I'd heard stories about him, like everybody else in town. He was talking with a grave-faced, energetic woman; her head was topped with a beehive hairdo that swayed and tilted comically when she spoke. Benbow' s stance was Napoleonic-legs apart, powerful shoulders hunched forward as if eager to crush an opponent with main force. Seen from the side he had a massive jaw and small ears: Nature had shaped this man for a talker, not a listener. "Don't just stand there." Mary-Ellen elbowed me. "Come on." "Where to now?" "To meet people. Why do you think Aunt Maybelle invited us? Come on." "You go ahead and meet them. I'm going to get myself another drink and just watch this party for a while. Go |