Morgan's Passing - Anne Tyler [72]
He rattled a spatula on a frying pan, trying to claim Bonny’s attention. He did a little short-order-cook’s dance. “Cackles on a raft for Number Four!” he called. “BLT, hold the mayo!”
Bonny and Brindle gave him identical flat, bemused stares, unblinking, like cats.
“Bonny, I don’t see any garlic cloves,” he said, switching tactics.
“Use dehydrated.”
“Dehydrated! Dried-out garlic chips? Unthinkable.”
“No one will know the difference.”
“I wish you’d learn to make grocery lists,” he said. “You want to get organized, Bonny. Keep a list on the door of the fridge and write down whatever item you finish off.”
Bonny ran her fingers through her hair. She made it look like some kind of weaving—searching out a strand, lacing it into other strands behind her ear.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he told her. “Next week, when we get back to Baltimore, I’m going to take a pad of paper to the supermarket. I’m going to map out all the aisles. Aisle one: olives, pickles, mustard. Aisle two: coffee, tea … nothing will be omitted. Then you can get it Xeroxed two hundred and sixty times.”
Her fingers paused. “How many?”
“Five times fifty-two. Five years’ worth.”
She looked into his face.
“After five years I’ll make you a new one,” Morgan said. “Things may have changed in the store by then.”
“Yes, they very well may have,” Bonny said.
She threw Brindle a quick, tucked glance, and they smiled at each other. It was a smile so sunny and bland, and so obviously collusive, that all of Morgan’s uneasiness returned. It occurred to him that often they must discuss him behind his back. “Oh, you know Morgan,” they must say, rolling their eyes. “You know how he is.”
“Well, anyway,” he said, “all I intended was … See, if we check items off on this list, shopping would be so simple. Everything would go the way it ought to. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Should I be the one to get it Xeroxed?”
“No, dear, I’ll do it,” Bonny said. Then she sighed and laughed, in that way she had, and drank the last of her coffee. “For now,” she told Brindle, “let’s you and me go into town and buy the garlic.”
“Never mind; I’ll use dehydrated,” Morgan said hastily.
But she said, “Oh, the walk will do us good. We’ll take your mother, too.” She rose and looked under a stack of magazines. Then she looked in the oven, and finally in the refrigerator. She took out her purse and kissed Morgan. “Anything else you want?” she asked him.
“You could get cream.”
“We have cream.”
“Yes, but with more people coming tomorrow, and they might be as early as breakfast time—”
“Who might?”
“The Merediths.”
“Merediths?”
“At least, I think they might,” he said. “I just dropped them this note, you see, because Brindle wasn’t here and I hadn’t known Billy was staying through the weekend. I’d thought there’d be enough room. And there will be. Why, of course there will be! Where’d we put those sleeping bags?”
“Morgan, I wish you would check with me before you do these things,” Bonny said.
“But you like them! You always say you like them.”
“Like who?” Brindle asked. “Who’re we talking about, here?”
Bonny said, “Oh, the … you remember them, Brindle: the Merediths. You’ve seen them at the house, several times. Leon and Emily Meredith. Well, certainly I like them. I’m very fond of both of them, you know that, but still—”
“I found them a little dry, personally,” Brindle said. “Her, at least. No, I don’t think she’d be a barrel of fun at the beach.”
“Oh, Emily’s not dry at all, just—”
“And anyhow,” Morgan told Brindle, “I don’t remember asking what you thought. For that matter, I don’t remember asking you to Bethany, so you’re in a fine position to criticize my guest list.”
“Now, Morgan,” Bonny said.
“Oh, well,” said Brindle, “they won’t come. Don’t worry, Bonny. Emily won’t like sand. She