Pillow Talk (10 page)

He made a face of disgust. "Vegetables. And chicken. Chicken. Chicken. Chicken!" He stuck a finger down his throat.

Meg and Parker smiled and moved together out of the back seat and into the front. Parker turned the key in the ignition, then smiled at her and mouthed, "Thank you."

She smiled in return, grateful for his acknowledgement, thankful for his support, and all too aware of his presence.

"McDonald's here we come," Parker said. "And then, Gus, we're taking you home."

Ten

W
e're taking you home.
Parker tasted the
words
again
as he watched Gus chow down on not one but two double cheeseburgers. Meg had done justice to one of the chef salads in a plastic to-go box. Parker, who hadn't set foot in a McDonald's for more years than he could remember, tried to appreciate his chicken sandwich but found it fairly unpalatable. Maybe that had more to do with Gus's finger-down-the-throat routine at the mention of chicken than the cook at McDonald's, though.

He smiled at the thought and tossed a napkin to Gus as his nephew slurped the last molecules of ice cream and chocolate from his cup. Gus caught the napkin, waved it towards his face, then sat back with both hands on his skinny waist.

"Now that's some
food,"
he said. "Weren't you hungry, Uncle Parker?"

Parker shook his head and caught Meg hiding a grin. She probably found him too uptown
for her tastes, but for his part, he was ready to forgive her almost anything for coming with him on this mission and sticking by him as they broke the news of Jules's death to Gus.

It amazed him that Gus had reacted as well as he had. Jules had been pretty much an absentee father, but he'd spent more time with Gus than Marianne had. Gus's mother had consigned the baby to round-the-clock nurses and gone back to work on her waistline and her golf handicap.

Parker watched as Meg and Gus began negotiations surrounding a game to be played with a wadded-up paper cover of a straw. She was at ease with the child in a way he envied. There were some women who should've been sterilized at puberty and Marianne was one of them. Meg, on the other hand, took to children so naturally Parker found himself thinking the crazy thought that maybe his brother had married her because she would make a good mom for Gus.

Gus flicked the wad of paper toward Meg. She bounced it back with a flick and cried out as it crossed an imaginary goal line.

"No fair," Gus said. "You cheated." Then as Meg protested, he whipped the paper past her and off the table. That must have been a score because he yelled, "Gotcha!"

Parker dropped his notion. His brother had never thought of anyone other than himself and Gus was no exception. He sure hadn't
been thinking of his son when he'd gone out o
n Jackson Avenue to score a fix.

Gus was giggling and his blue eyes, so much like Jules's, were alive in a way Parker didn't remember seeing since Gus had been a toddler.

Not that you've paid much attention to him.
Even when Gus had lived at Ponthier Place a few years ago, Parker had pretty much ignored him during his visits to the house.

Meg snatched the paper missile heading toward her face and waved her clasped fist triumphantly. "I win," she said. "About ready for a trip to WalMart?"

"WalMart?" The way Gus said the word you would've thought it ranked below chicken in his world view.

Meg nodded.

"Do you think it's open on Sunday?" Parker asked, having no idea. They could easily wait until tomorrow. Teensy would take Gus shopping or have Horton do it.

"Sure they are," Meg said. "Sunday is the day America shops."

Gus had stuck his nose in the air. "Only low-class people shop at WalMart."

"Is that right?" Meg tossed the crumpled paper projectile from one hand to the other, eyeing the child.

Parker heard the dangerous note in her voice. If he were a betting man, he'd lay money that Gus was about to get a lesson on snobbery. Well intentioned and well deserved.

“Everyone knows that." Gus sucked at the remains of his shake through his straw, setting off a barrage of sucking noises.

“And everyone knows that's a low-class noise so let's get going.'' Meg stood up.

“Hey, I'll have you know I'm a Ponthier." Gus stuck his hands on his waist. “And Ponthiers don't shop at WalMart." He sat back against his chair. “You tell her, Uncle Parker."

Parker couldn't actually remember the last time he'd stepped foot in one of the discount stores. Instead of fabricating his response in order to support Meg, he said, “Did you know the guy who founded WalMart was one of the richest men in the world when he died?"

Gus's mouth twisted. “So big deal. He went and died then he couldn't spend the money anymore. Just like my dad." He rubbed his hand across his mouth, pressing his knuckles against lips that quivered.

Parker could have kicked himself for his choice of words. Sending a mute apology and yet another plea for help across the table to Meg, he reached out a hand and touched his nephew's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Gus."

Gus kicked the base of the table and shrugged away from Parker's touch. “It's okay. Shit happens." Then he glared defiantly, obviously anticipating a reaction to his words.

“Gus—" Parker started.

"When you were at that school swearing got you in trouble, didn't it?" Meg interrupted.

Gus nodded.

"And when you got in trouble people paid attention to you, didn't they?"

He nodded agai
n, a small smile lifting the corn
ers of his still trembling mouth.

"Well, that's not how we're going to react," Meg said briskly. "Parker and I respond to polite, intelligent word choices. Language appropriate to a Ponthier of Ponthier Place."

Parker stifled a grin. He admired the way she wasn't above using the child's snobbery to win her point. Gus did have a mouth that could use some cleaning up. To Gus, he said, "Meg's right."

Gus looked from one to the other then down at his hands. "No friggin' way I believe that," he said.

Meg gathered the remains of the sandwich wrappings and discarded catsup packets onto a tray. "I noticed a WalMart off the freeway not too far from here. I saw it just as I was waking up."

"I said"—Gus raised his voice—"I'm not going to any damn WalMart."

The couple at the next table turned to stare at them.

Parker began to wish he'd never entered the universe of McDonald's, WalMarts, and impossibly spoiled nephews.

"Ready?" Meg asked.

Parker rose, wondering what they would do if Gus refused to vacate his seat. He'd started
drumming his heels against the base of his chair with an alarming intensity.

"They have pretty cool pocket knives at WalMart," Meg said, addressing Parker without looking at Gus.

He had to hand it to her. She'd noticed Gus's knife earlier.

Parker dumped his tray.

Moving about as fast as an alligator sunning itself on a summer afternoon, Gus dragged first one foot then the other from beneath the table and pushed his skinny body from the plastic chair. "I'll go," he said, mutiny in his eyes, "but don't expect me to like anything they have there."

Meg smiled. Parker pushed open the door and held it open for the woman and the child. It was a pleasantly odd notion, but he felt a little bit like he'd gained an impromptu family.

A
lmost three hours later, Meg held open the side door as Parker led a sleepy Gus into the house. Gus
wore the baggy shorts and knee-
topping sweatshirt he'd selected at WalMart. He'd also picked out hiking boots, gray socks, and a pocketknife.

Meg had tossed in underwear, pajamas, and a toothbrush, items Gus understandably refused to be concerned with as he played with his new knife. All in all, the shopping spree set Parker back about $150, a bargain considering not once during the drive back to New Orleans
did Gus reiterate his protests against shopping at the discount store.

Cars lined the drive and lights burned in every room of the house. The last thing Meg wanted to do was meet more friends or relatives of the Ponthiers.

"Let's get him to bed," she whispered to Parker.

Horton appeared from a side hall. "Good evening, Miz Meg, Mr. Parker, Mr. Gus."

"Who do we have?" Parker asked.

Horton raised one hand and began ticking off his list against his fingers. Meg was amused to see he still wore white gloves that somehow managed to remain spotless. "The Graviers, the Millicents, the Bennings, the Duffources. Ah, and Miss Laisance called, too. She asked particularly for you."

And who was Miss Laisance? Meg shot a glance to catch Parker's reaction but he merely said, "I'll be back down in a bit. We've got to get Gus to bed and he could use a bath."

"Hey, I don't go to bed this early." Gus jerked wide awake and shook free of Parker's arm. He crouched in a fighting stance and said, "Just try to make me."

"Any word in response to that telegram, Horton?"

"No, sir." Horton held out a hand toward Gus. "Shall we get your bath out of the way?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Meg said.

Parker looked surprised. "Horton raised us, you know."

"Oh." Meg was confused. Was Horton a butler? A maid? A nanny? He seemed far too dignified to be assigned to overseeing the bath of a ten-year-old.

"If you'd rather do it yourself?" Horton asked politely.

Meg thought of facing the crowd he'd described. No doubt all the well wishers were dying of curiosity over Jules's surprise widow. "Yes. Yes, I think I would."

Gus stared at her open-mouthed. "You can't see me naked. I don't even know you."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease, Gus. I've no interest in seeing you naked. Only clean."

"Thanks, Horton. I'll show Meg to Gus's room." Parker pointed to the large stair rising from the end of the entrance hall. "March," he said. "We'll be right behind you."

"I like being dirty," Gus said, but he took off, leaping up the elegant staircase two steps at a time.

"Have Meg's things been sent over?" Parker asked Horton.

He nodded. "They're in the Burgundy Suite."

Parker looked tired, Meg thought, watching him confer for a few minutes more with Horton. She quit listening and glanced around, noticing several new floral arrangements had
arrived since they'd departed for Mississippi earlier that afternoon.

"About time you two got back here!" Grandfather wheeled across the entry way and braked to a halt in front of them. “They could use some more food in there
,"
he said to Horton, who nodded and withdrew.

"What did you do, stop and gamble?"

"Hello, Grandfather," Parker said.

"Hi, Mr. Ponthier," Meg joined in.

He glared at her. "You may as well call me Grandfather. Everyone else does."

"I guess you want to know how Gus took the news," Parker said.

"You always did know how to get to the point." Grandfather nodded and Meg saw through his gruffness. He was concerned about Gus.

"I'll tell you, but let me show Meg to her room first," Parker said. "She's had a long day and before she takes on any more new faces, I'm sure she'd like to freshen up."

Meg glanced at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. Or did he say that because she looked raggedy and he didn't want the family embarrassed? Whichever it was, she was happy to take him up on the offer. Delay served her purposes.

"Okay, okay, but come right back down here. And you, young lady, don't forget you owe me a conversation."

"I won't," Meg said meekly and followed
P
arker across the hall and up the stairs. Unlike Gus, she walked slowly, drained by the experiences of the day and feeling oddly shy alone with Parker as they climbed the stairs to her room.

Yet she felt inexplicably comfortable with him. She had stood beside this man's brother in a wedding chapel and sat within inches of him on the flight from Las Vegas to New Orleans. Not once had she been at ease with Jules. And it wasn't enough to attribute the difference to the circumstances of the marriage for hire.

After his earlier arrogance, Parker had shown her a softer, more approachable aspect of himself, a most appealing self. She wanted to walk by his side and learn more about this man.

"The Burgundy Suite is at the back of the house," Parker said in such a matter-of-fact voice Meg felt foolish over the direction her thoughts had taken.

He pointed to the right down a long hallway that ran in both directions from the top of the stairs. Even on the second floor the ceiling arched far overhead. Lights glowed in sconces along the walls. "It'll be quieter there," he added.

"That's very thoughtful. Where is Gus's room?"

Parker pointed towards the door they'd just walked past.

"Wouldn't it
be better for me to be closer?"

"To Gus?" He sounded surprised, but then he paused, weighing her question. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all." Not that she'd be there much longer, but she wanted to help the child in any way she could. She could picture him getting quite forgotten in this house, especially with all the bustle that would result from his father's funeral, an event that would leave him emotionally more needy than usual.

Parker pushed open the door across the hall from Gus's room. "Teensy got a little carried away with yellow when she redecorated this guest room," he said. "Do you mind it? It's not as large as the Burgundy."