Morgan's Passing - Anne Tyler [56]
“Why not? What principles?” Emily asked. “You sent yours to private school.”
“That was Bonny’s doing,” Morgan told her. “She has this money. We never see it, never buy anything inspiring with it, but it’s there, all right, for things that don’t show—new slate roof tiles and the children’s education. Her money is so well behaved! I would have preferred a public school, myself. Why, surely. You don’t want to cart her off to some faraway place, all these complicated carpools—”
“Dad Meredith happened to mention it while Leon was out of the room,” Emily said. “On purpose, I guess. He must be hoping I’ll wear Leon down, so when the subject comes up again Leon will be used to it. But I haven’t said a word, because Leon’s so proud about money. And you know what a temper he has.”
“Temper?” Morgan said.
“He might just explode.”
“Oh, I can’t picture that.”
“He’s always had this angry streak.”
“I can’t picture that at all,” Morgan said.
He stopped and looked around him. “I would offer to take you for a drive,” he said, “just to celebrate the return of Robert Roberts, don’t you know. I’m much too keyed up to work today. But, unfortunately, my car’s been stolen.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” Emily said. “When did it happen?”
“Just now,” he told her.
“Now? This morning?”
“This instant,” he said. He pointed to an empty place at the curb, beside a mailbox. “I parked it here, where I thought you might be passing. Now it’s disappeared.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open.
“There, there, I’m not upset,” he said. “As you would say: what’s a car, after all?” He spread his arms, smiling. “It’s only an encumbrance. Only another burden. Right? I’m better off without it.”
Emily didn’t know how he could talk that way. A car was very important. She and Leon had been saving for one for years. “You ought to call the police immediately,” she told him. “Come back with me and use our telephone. Time really matters.”
“There’d be no point,” he said. “I’ve never had much faith in policemen.” He took her elbow again to lead her on. The grip of his tense, warm fingers reminded her of Gina. “Last summer,” he said, “while we were driving to the beach, a state trooper flagged us down and asked us for a lift. He said his patrol car had been stolen. Can you imagine? He got in the rear with Molly and Kate and my mother … those big, shiny boots, gun in a holster … he leaned over the front seat and saw Bonny, saw her eating an apple core. ‘You want to watch it with those seeds,’ he told her. He said, ‘My cousin Donna used to love appleseeds. Best part of the apple, she claimed. One year me and my brother saved up all our seeds in a Baby Ben alarm-clock box and gave them to her for Christmas. She was thrilled. She ate them every one, and by evening she was dead. Here’s where I get off,’ he said; so I stopped the car and out he climbed and that was the last we saw of him. It seemed he’d only popped in to bring us this message, you know? And then departed. I said to Bonny, I told her, ‘Think of it, the lives of ordinary citizens in the hands of a man like that. Walking around with a gun,’ I said. ‘No doubt loaded, no doubt cocked, or whatever it is you do with a gun.’ ”
“Yes, but …” Emily said.
She was about to tell him that surely the next policeman wouldn’t be so peculiar. But then she wondered. Some people, it appeared, attract the peculiar all their lives. “Well, anyway,” she said, “it wouldn’t hurt just to give the police a phone call.”
“Maybe not, maybe not,” Morgan said. He was reading a chipped and peeling sign: EUNOLA’S RESTAURANT. “Is this place any good?” he asked.
“I’ve never tried it.”
“Lived right here in the neighborhood and never tried Eunola’s?”
“It’s a matter of money.”
“Let’s go in and have some coffee,” Morgan said.
“I thought you had to open your store.”
“Oh, Butkins will do that. He’s happier without me, to tell the truth. I get in the way.” He pulled open the door and shepherded Emily in ahead of him. There were four small tables and a counter where a row of men in hard hats