no food."
"Oh." She lowered herself into her seat. "Well, your father always arranges for the Thanksgiving meal."
"Father? I haven't seen him in weeks. Where is he?"
"How should I know?" Julia hiccuped. "Ask Marilyn."
"I certainly don't know," Marilyn said, pressing her hand to her gown. "I haven't seen him since . . . well, I'm sure we all remember."
"/remember," Morgan said solemnly.
"Me, too," Sissy echoed. "I still haven't gotten to try chicken's feet."
Morgan rolled his eyes. "While we're on the subject, dear sister of mine, let me tell you something that will chill your heart. I bumped into Joe Kellogg yesterday. That's Father's lawyer. He told me Father had made an appointment to see him right after Thanksgiving."
Marilyn's face fell. "Then he really meant it."
"He did. Either that, or he's giving us one hell of a good scare."
"I've already had a good scare today," Julia said, weaving sideways a bit. "I can't find my pearls."
"You'll be missing a lot more than your pearls if Daddy visits that attorney, Mother." Marilyn whipped her head around to face Morgan. "Do you understand how serious this is?"
"I'm trying, but my concentration is dulled by lack of nutrition. Where's the food?"
Julia waved her hand in the air. "Ask your father."
"Maybe this is how he's going to punish us. Maybe he's going to starve us to death."
"That's the way it always is with you, Morgan. Me, me, me. So selfish."
"Why? Because I want food on Thanksgiving?"
"Even as a toddler, you were never satisfied. Constantly crying. Drove your nannies to distraction."
"Maybe there's some food in the refrigerator?" Sissy offered, trying to be helpful.
Morgan wasn't encouraged. "There isn't. I've already looked."
"We could have a pizza delivered."
"On Thanksgiving?" Morgan slapped his forehead with his hand. "Its Thanksgiving, heart of my heart. No restaurants will be open. Or supermarkets."
"What about that big freezer in the basement?" Marilyn asked. "You got that to store food, didn't you, Mother?"
"I always meant to," Julia said. "I thought if I bought food in large quantities, I wouldn't have to go to the grocery so often."
"Mother, you haven't seen the inside of a grocery store in twenty years."
"Well, the freezer was on sale and I couldn't resist. But I've never put any food in it."
Morgan was becoming wild-eyed. "So you're telling me we have a gigantic food freezer with no food in it?"
"There he goes again. Selfish, selfish, selfish."
Morgan covered his face. "God help me."
"But I think it came with something," his mother continued. "Three frozen pizzas. That's part of what made it such a bargain."
"Good enough." Morgan jumped out of his chair and started toward the basement.
"Morgan!" Marilyn said. "Those pizzas will be something like six years old."
"It's that or cannibalism."
Julia held up her hand. "You'll need the key." She wobbled into the kitchen, took it off a hook on the wall, and returned.
Morgan snatched the key from her and disappeared. They heard the basement door slam, and after that heard nothing at all. Until they heard Morgan scream.
"Morgy!" Sissy leapt out of her seat and headed downstairs. Her scream was loud enough to be heard in the suburbs.
"Good God, what is it?" Almost grudgingly, Marilyn pushed herself away from the table. Her scream was much more controlled, more like a repressed cry for help. But that was Marilyn's way.
Julia frowned. "I suppose I'm obliged to go look." She wobble d d ownstairs, using the wall for support whenever possible. The basement steps were particularly treacherous, but she finally managed to make it to the far corner where the other three were still huddled around the open freezer.
Inside the freezer, spread out, faceup, and covered with a thick layer of frost, she saw the frozen remains of her husband of thirty-seven years, Arthur Hightower. His eyes were open, his lips were parted--and he had her triple-A imported cultured pearl necklace clutched in his right
"Oh." She lowered herself into her seat. "Well, your father always arranges for the Thanksgiving meal."
"Father? I haven't seen him in weeks. Where is he?"
"How should I know?" Julia hiccuped. "Ask Marilyn."
"I certainly don't know," Marilyn said, pressing her hand to her gown. "I haven't seen him since . . . well, I'm sure we all remember."
"/remember," Morgan said solemnly.
"Me, too," Sissy echoed. "I still haven't gotten to try chicken's feet."
Morgan rolled his eyes. "While we're on the subject, dear sister of mine, let me tell you something that will chill your heart. I bumped into Joe Kellogg yesterday. That's Father's lawyer. He told me Father had made an appointment to see him right after Thanksgiving."
Marilyn's face fell. "Then he really meant it."
"He did. Either that, or he's giving us one hell of a good scare."
"I've already had a good scare today," Julia said, weaving sideways a bit. "I can't find my pearls."
"You'll be missing a lot more than your pearls if Daddy visits that attorney, Mother." Marilyn whipped her head around to face Morgan. "Do you understand how serious this is?"
"I'm trying, but my concentration is dulled by lack of nutrition. Where's the food?"
Julia waved her hand in the air. "Ask your father."
"Maybe this is how he's going to punish us. Maybe he's going to starve us to death."
"That's the way it always is with you, Morgan. Me, me, me. So selfish."
"Why? Because I want food on Thanksgiving?"
"Even as a toddler, you were never satisfied. Constantly crying. Drove your nannies to distraction."
"Maybe there's some food in the refrigerator?" Sissy offered, trying to be helpful.
Morgan wasn't encouraged. "There isn't. I've already looked."
"We could have a pizza delivered."
"On Thanksgiving?" Morgan slapped his forehead with his hand. "Its Thanksgiving, heart of my heart. No restaurants will be open. Or supermarkets."
"What about that big freezer in the basement?" Marilyn asked. "You got that to store food, didn't you, Mother?"
"I always meant to," Julia said. "I thought if I bought food in large quantities, I wouldn't have to go to the grocery so often."
"Mother, you haven't seen the inside of a grocery store in twenty years."
"Well, the freezer was on sale and I couldn't resist. But I've never put any food in it."
Morgan was becoming wild-eyed. "So you're telling me we have a gigantic food freezer with no food in it?"
"There he goes again. Selfish, selfish, selfish."
Morgan covered his face. "God help me."
"But I think it came with something," his mother continued. "Three frozen pizzas. That's part of what made it such a bargain."
"Good enough." Morgan jumped out of his chair and started toward the basement.
"Morgan!" Marilyn said. "Those pizzas will be something like six years old."
"It's that or cannibalism."
Julia held up her hand. "You'll need the key." She wobbled into the kitchen, took it off a hook on the wall, and returned.
Morgan snatched the key from her and disappeared. They heard the basement door slam, and after that heard nothing at all. Until they heard Morgan scream.
"Morgy!" Sissy leapt out of her seat and headed downstairs. Her scream was loud enough to be heard in the suburbs.
"Good God, what is it?" Almost grudgingly, Marilyn pushed herself away from the table. Her scream was much more controlled, more like a repressed cry for help. But that was Marilyn's way.
Julia frowned. "I suppose I'm obliged to go look." She wobble d d ownstairs, using the wall for support whenever possible. The basement steps were particularly treacherous, but she finally managed to make it to the far corner where the other three were still huddled around the open freezer.
Inside the freezer, spread out, faceup, and covered with a thick layer of frost, she saw the frozen remains of her husband of thirty-seven years, Arthur Hightower. His eyes were open, his lips were parted--and he had her triple-A imported cultured pearl necklace clutched in his right
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