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Show -133 "Over Mt. Hood. From an airplane," Carlo said. He did four quick deep-knee bends in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Stop," Alice said. "That's crazy." Jacob frowned. "No it's not. I remember Adam talked about it once. He did say something about Mt. Hood." "From an airplane." Carlo did another knee-bend; Alice glared at him and he stopped. The telephone rang in the next room and Jacob got up to answer it. "I didn't indulge Adam's romantic fantasies when he was alive and I won't start now. If you want to scatter him from an airplane go ahead but I won't be there." She looked at me over her teacup and I saw that this tough-talking woman was sad. "I don't suppose that anybody named Buckdancer is going to be sensible enough to object to that sort of gesture, though. Are you, Buck? If you had that kind of sense you would have changed your name a long time ago." Jacob came back in. His face was stiff and unnatural, as if he had received some bad news, but the bad news for this day was out already and the expression must have been a leftover. I looked at my family with tenderness and exasperation and fear: they were my people, like it or not, and we Skinners are sentimental. I didn't want to love them too much but I wasn't sure I could help it. "Who was on the phone?" Alice wanted to know. "Laszlo Brady." |