Morgan's Passing - Anne Tyler [79]
She shrugged. “It’s just the clear sign,” she said.
“The what?”
“You know—all clear, everything in order.”
“Little does he know,” Morgan said.
9
Bonny told Morgan they were running out of beds. Were the Merediths leaving tonight or tomorrow morning? she asked him. This conversation took place in the kitchen, late in the afternoon, while Bonny was emptying ice-cube trays into a pitcher. Above the crackle and clink of ice, she whispered that it would certainly solve a great deal if the Merediths left before bedtime. Then she could put Brindle and Robert in their room. But Morgan didn’t think Brindle would want to share a room with Robert anyhow. “Let it be, Bonny,” he said. “Send Robert out on the porch with a sleeping bag.”
“But, Morgan, they’re married.”
“The man’s a lunatic. She’s better off without him.”
“You’re the one who was against her leaving him,” Bonny said. “Now, just because he walks into the surf a ways—”
“With all his clothes on. With his suit on. Making us look like some kind of institutional outing, a laughingstock …”
“Nobody laughed,” Bonny said.
“It’s a mark of how badly this vacation is going,” Morgan said, “that, lately, I’ve been wondering how the hardware store is doing.”
“He was just showing her he cared,” said Bonny.
“I’ve half a mind to call Butkins in the morning and see if he’s restocked those leaf bags yet. With fall coming on—”
“What are you talking about? It’s July.”
Morgan pulled at his nose.
“Go ask Emily what they’ve decided,” Bonny said.
“You want me to tell them to leave?”
“No, no, just ask. If they’re staying on, we’ll work out something else.”
“Maybe we could leave,” he said hopefully. “The others could stay and we could go.”
Bonny gave him a look.
He wandered into the living room, where his mother and Priscilla were playing Scrabble. Kate was painting her fingernails at a little rattan table. The smell of nail polish filled the room—a piercing, city smell that Morgan liked. He would have preferred to settle here, but he said, “Anyone seen Emily?”
“She’s out front,” Priscilla told him.
He went to the porch, letting the rickety screen door slam shut behind him. Emily was taking pictures again. She photographed Gina, who was lining up a row of oyster shells on the railing. She photographed Robert, who sat stiff and humiliated in a rocker, wearing borrowed clothes—Billy’s wedding-white slacks and candy-striped shirt. Then she photographed Morgan. Morgan had to stand still for a long, long moment while Emily squinted through the camera at him. He did his best not to show his irritation. At least, he was glad to see, Emily had got out of that swimsuit. She wore her black outfit and no shoes at all. She was her old, graceful, fairy-dancer self. As soon as Morgan heard the shutter click, he said, “Now I’ll snap one of you, since you’re looking so fine and pretty.” He came down the front steps and took the camera from her hands. She put up no resistance, for once. She seemed tired. Even when he drew away and aimed the camera at her, she didn’t smooth her hair or lighten her expression.
He snapped the picture and handed the camera back to her. “Ah … Bonny was just wondering,” he said. “Should we count on having you three for the night?”
“I don’t know,” she said. She rolled the film forward with a little zipping sound. “I’ll have to talk to Leon,” she said finally.
“Oh? Where is Leon?”
“He never came back from his walk. I was planning to go into town and look for him.”
“I’ll come with you,” Morgan said. “Gina? You want to take a walk?”
“I’m busy,” Gina said, laying out another row of shells.
“Robert?”
“I’m waiting for Brindle.”
Morgan and Emily started down the street. It was narrow and patchily surfaced; they could walk in the center of it without much fear of traffic. They passed a woman hanging out beach towels and a little girl blowing soap bubbles on her steps. The houses were so close together that it almost seemed the two of them were proceeding through a series of rooms—hearing