Poppy Done to Death

I had pla

I got my purse from my locker and went back out to the checkout desk, to find Sally glaring at Perry, who was looking miserable and defiant.

"I guess you know my son thinks he's gay," Sally said to me after we got in my car.

"Yes," I said cautiously.

"I must have been a terrible mother. I guess I shouldn't have divorced Steve. Or maybe Paul." Sally had been married to both Allison brothers. I'd hardly known Steve, but Paul had been a mine of emotional problems.

"No, I think you did the right thing there," I said, trying to sound calming and positive. This wasn't easy. "And I think you tried as hard as you could to be a good mother. Perry being gay doesn't mean you were a bad mother."

"I got him through the emotional problems and the drug abuse," she said plaintively. "It seems to me it ought to be time for him to settle down like everyone else."

I was speechless. Since Perry had discussed the orientation he'd finally revealed to himself, I had been wondering if maybe his emotional upheavals and substance abuse had been attempts to obscure it from himself. I had no idea what to say to Sally.

"Perry's a good guy," I told her. "He's well into adulthood, and he has to make his own life. You know he loves you."

Those were true things. I wasn't sure that they all tied together, but Sally seemed to gain some comfort.

She began to talk about other topics, and everything Sally said was absolutely lucid and intelligent. I began to wonder if that episode in the library had really happened.

I invited Sally in to meet my brother, and she looked over the house with interest while I talked to Phillip.

"That Pascoe guy called again," Phillip said. My brother seemed to be getting a little restless, which was what I had feared. He'd caught up on his sleeping and eating, he'd watched television and answered the phone, and now boredom was setting in.

I thought hard while I sat there, supposedly studying the list of callers. Phillip had spiky, tight handwriting, but it was legible after you'd looked at it for a minute.

I got out the Lawrenceton phone book and looked up a number I'd called several times before, but always in an official capacity. Josh Finstermeyer answered the phone, which was lucky for me.

"Josh, this is Ms. Teagarden," I began.

"I don't have a single overdue book!" Josh said anxiously. "I swear!"

"I know that," I said, trying not to sound irritable. "I have a favor to ask. If your mother doesn't have anything for you to do today, that is." Parental tasks took precedence over anything else.

"No, ma'am, my mom's at work anyway," Josh said. He sounded curious.

"You have a car, right?" He'd just earned the right to drive by himself.

"Yes, ma'am." Now he was even more curious. The good thing about Josh, whom I'd known from birth, was that he was a voracious reader. The bad thing was that he forgot to return books. We'd had our ups and downs.

"My brother is here with me, and I need to send him shopping," I told Josh. "I have to go back to work, so I was hoping you could take Phillip to the grocery store and to Wal-Mart. And if there's anything on at the Global you haven't seen already, that would be okay, too."

"So who's paying?" Josh was nothing if not businesslike.

"Gas money and movie money."

"Done. How old is this dude?"

"He's fifteen," I said.

"He's not weird looking, right?" Obviously, Josh wanted to know if Phillip was going to be an embarrassment.

"Not at all," I said gravely. "In fact, you might want to bring your sister." Josh had a twin sister, Jocelyn, called Joss. She wasn't much of a reader, unlike her brother, but she had seemed okay when she was in the library doing research for school.

"Okay. When?"

"Anytime. You know where I live? On McBride?"

"Yes, ma'am. Where's your brother from?"

"The Los Angeles area," I said grandly.

"Oh. Cool."

"So I'll leave him the money."

"Gotcha."

Of course Phillip had been listening to my conversation, and he seemed half-excited and half-scared at the idea of spending the rest of the afternoon with kids his own age who didn't know him. I could understand that. But I knew what Phillip was capable of—taking off cross-country alone—and I wanted him busy. I peeled some money out of my purse, and while Sally and Phillip talked about southern accents, I worked on a grocery list.

After Phillip vanished into the bathroom to spruce himself up, Sally and I made sandwiches from the cold-cut tray, which had enough processed meat and cheese for maybe ten people. I rummaged in the refrigerator for mayo

"Okay," I said. I needed to be getting back to work, too. "Where's your car?"

Sally's face went blank.

For a moment, I thought she just didn't understand me. "I mean, is it at the newspaper, or did you drive down to the library?" I asked.

For one horrible moment, Sally looked frightened.

"Oh, just take me back to the library," she said with a nonchalance assumed so swiftly and smoothly that I almost didn't catch that moment. If my back had been turned, I would have swallowed her act.

Sally really didn't know where her car was.

Chapter Five

I had taken a circuitous route to make sure Sally's car was indeed at the library. It was, and I dropped her off right by it with some relief. I watched her unlock it and climb in the driver's seat. I wondered what to do, and then I realized that it wasn't up to me to do anything. This situation was Perry's responsibility, and all I could do was be a friend to him so he could talk if he needed to.

I patted him on the shoulder when I passed him in the employees' lounge, and he looked up at me and nodded, a short, jerky nod of acknowledgment.

"I made an appointment with Dr. Zelman for her next week," he said. "She tries to cover it up, and she's pretty good at it, but it's getting worse and worse."

There really wasn't anything else to say.

The two remaining hours of work flew by. There were lots of people coming in and out, lots of computer use, and the book order to complete. When it was time for me to clock out, I was actually glad. There were so many ways for me to go, I couldn't pick one.

My plans for the rest of the afternoon took an unexpected turn when I went to the employee parking lot and found Bryan Pascoe leaning on my car. His office was within easy walking distance of the library; it was in the old, ambience-laden, inconvenient Jasper Building, which also held Cartland Sewell's office. So it had been easy for Bryan Pascoe to get where he was. The question was why he was there.

"Ms. Teagarden," he said.

"Hello, Mr. Pascoe," I said, and even I could hear the question clearly in my voice. It was a relief not to have to tilt my head back to look Bryan Pascoe in the eyes.

He held out his hand, and I shook it. He had fine bones. "Please call me Bryan," he said politely.

"Bryan," I murmured, and retrieved my hand. "Aurora," I said after a moment.