The Most Dangerous Thing - Laura Lippman [94]
Duncan also watches the strangest mix of television shows—American Idol, another singing show, some dancing shows, a lot of reality television—part of a standing date at a girl’s house. Not a date-date, and not a girlfriend, just a girl who’s a friend. This is how Duncan says it, word for word, in a high singsong voice, followed by a sigh. Not a date-date, not a girlfriend, just a girl who’s a friend, DAD.
Really, it’s almost a relief to have him here in the yard, grumbling about a chore and doing it poorly. It seems more normal, more boylike.
“You have to be careful pruning,” Sean says, taking the massive trimmers from Duncan and demonstrating the technique, the proper place to cut. Duncan sighs and imitates Sean’s motions with arch lassitude.
“Mom says you want to go to Baltimore for spring break.” They usually shoot for a special trip for the spring break, something splashy, often underwritten by Vivian’s parents.
“I’m not sure about want. But I think we need to check in with your grandmother over Easter. It will be hard for her, being alone.”
“She’s not alone. Uncle Tim and his family live twenty minutes away.”
“Still, we should go.”
Duncan focuses on the branch in front of him. “Some kids from school are going to New Orleans to work with one of the house-building programs there.”
“That’s still going on?”
“Of course it is. You don’t rebuild a city overnight.”
Sean knows New Orleans wasn’t rebuilt overnight. His surprise is that school and church groups are still going, that the attention-deficit-disordered world hasn’t moved on to a new tragedy. Events move into the rearview mirror quickly these days. Earthquakes, tsunamis—it seems like every month, celebrities are back on television, running some phone bank.
“I thought I would go,” Duncan says. “It will look good on my college applications. I’m light on volunteering and community service.”
“Can’t you do something similar in the summer?”
“I’m going back to Stage Door, then doing an intensive cross-country camp, one that attracts scouts.”
Scouts mean scholarships, and Sean is no enemy of financial assistance for Sean’s college education, although he knows that’s the sort of bill that Vivian’s family will pick up if he really finds himself on the ropes. And if the school is impressive enough. Sean isn’t sure which schools will make the cut, but he knows his alma mater, Washington University, isn’t among them, although it’s no safety school. But no one in Vivian’s family is familiar with it, and what they don’t know can’t possibly be worth knowing. Vivian went to Duke, and Sean’s room has been filled with blue-and-white devils almost since the day he was born.
“You haven’t seen your grandmother in a while. You didn’t even make it to the funeral.”
“Dad, I had that competition in Orlando. If I hadn’t gone, the chamber quartet would have been penalized.”
“You’re the only grandson—and the only one who doesn’t live there.”
“That’s not my fault,” Duncan says in his factual, even-keeled way, so much like Vivian. “And being the only grandson shouldn’t matter. Are you saying boys are more important than girls to Grandma Dee?”
“It would make her really happy if you came with us. That’s all.”
“But we’ve already bought our plane tickets.”
“We?”
“Mom and me. She’s planning on being one of the chaperones on the New Orleans trip.”
Duncan’s face is turned away from Sean’s. Sean has never been sure how much Duncan picks up on his parents’ dynamic. Sean’s father, if he were still alive, would probably say Vivian wears the pants in the family, but that’s not exactly right. She’s not a ballbuster. Her manner is unfailingly polite, reasonable. She simply cannot see Sean’s side of things. When they clash, her attitude is almost pitying. Poor silly Sean, thinking that’s a viable idea. She humors him, hearing him out.
He thinks of another thing his father liked to