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By Root 6690 0

the rest among Abigail, Veronica, Edgar, and herself (i.e., Joyce, not Patty, whose financial interest was nugatory). Abigail shook her head continuously while Patty explained it. “To begin with,” she said, “did Mommy not tell you about Galina’s accident? She hit a school crossing guard in a crosswalk. Thank God no children, just the old man in his orange vest. She was distracted by her spawn, in the back seat, and plowed straight into him. This was only about two years ago, and, of course, she and Edgar had let their car insurance lapse, because that’s the way she and Edgar are. Never mind New Jersey state law, never mind that even Daddy had car insurance. Edgar didn’t see the need for it, and Galina, despite living here for fifteen years, said everything was different in Rrrrussia, she had no idea. The school’s insurance paid the crosswalk guard, who basically can’t walk now, but the insurance company has a claim on all their assets, up to some ungodly sum. Any money they get now goes straight to the insurance company.”

Joyce, interestingly, had not mentioned this to Patty.

“Well, that’s probably as it should be,” she said. “If the guy is crippled, that’s where the money should go. Right?”

“It still means they run away to Israel, since they’re penniless. Which is fine with me—sayonara! But good luck selling that to Mommy. She’s fonder of the spawn than I am.”

“So why is this a problem for you?”

“Because,” Abigail said, “Edgar and Galina shouldn’t get a share at all, because they’ve had the use of the estate for six years and pretty well trashed it, and because the money’s just going to vanish anyway. Don’t you think it should go to people who can actually use it?”

“It sounds like the crossing guard could use it.”

“He’s been paid off. It’s just the insurance company now, and companies have insurance for these things themselves.”

Patty frowned.

“As for the uncles,” Abigail said, “I say tough tittie. They were sort of like you—they ran away. They didn’t have to have Granddaddy farting up every holiday like we did. Daddy went over there practically every week, his whole life, and ate Grandmommy’s nasty stale Pecan Sandies. I sure don’t remember seeing his brothers doing that.”

“You’re saying you think we deserve to be paid for that.”

“Why not? It’s better than not being paid. The uncles don’t need the money anyway. They’re doing verrrrry well without it. Whereas for me, and for Ronnie, it would make a real difference.”

“Oh, Abigail!” Patty burst out. “We’re never going to get along, are we.”

Perhaps catching a hint of pity in her voice, Abigail pulled a stupid-face, a mean face. “I’m not the one that ran away,” she said. “I’m not the one who turned her nose up, and could never take a joke, and married Mr. Superhuman Good Guy Minnesotan Righteous Weirdo Naturelover, and didn’t even pretend not to hate us. You think you’re doing so well, you think you’re so superior, and now Mr. Superhuman Good Guy’s dumped you for some inexplicable reason that obviously has nothing to do with your sterling personal qualities, and you think you can come back and be Miss Lovable-Congenial Goodwill Ambassador Florence Nightingale. It’s all verrrry interesting.”

Patty made sure to take several deep breaths before replying to this. “Like I said,” she said, “I don’t think you and I are ever going to get along.”

“The whole reason I have to call Mommy every day,” Abigail said, “is that you’re out there trying to wreck everything. I’ll stop bothering her the minute you go away and mind your own business. Is that a deal?”

“In what way is it not my business?”

“You said yourself you don’t care about the money. If you want to take a share and give it to the uncles, fine. If that helps you feel more superior and righteous, fine. But don’t tell us what to do.”

“OK,” Patty said, “I think we’re almost done here. Just—so I’m sure I’m understanding this—you think that by taking things from Ray and Joyce you’ve been doing them a favor all your life? You think Ray was doing his parents a favor by taking things? And that you deserve to be paid