Read Online Body Language by Michael Craft - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael Craft
Tags: Suspense
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times.” I remembered her as an especially pretty little girl, and now she was a beautiful, stylish, self-assured woman of forty-seven. She turned to the door and waved the others in. “Joey? Do you remember your cousin Mark?”
A middle-aged man stepped timidly into the house, looking about the entry hall, getting his bearings. He carried an armload of gifts, picking absentmindedly at their ribbons, fidgeting with the oversize buttons of his topcoat. I peered into his face, and yes, I could discern the features of the hyperactive kid who had hounded me with his friendship during my long-ago visit. It was Joey.
He was followed by a teenager who carried one small package, shivering because he hadn’t worn a coat. He had not yet grown out of his adolescent gawkiness, and while his face showed the promise of some handsome features, they had not yet gelled. His slunky bearing telegraphed that he’d rather be anywhere else, and he absolutely refused to let his eyes meet mine. It was Thad.
Neil was there in the hall as well, and I managed a round of introductions, bravely referring to him as my lover, briefly explaining the arrangement we had agreed to regarding our alternating weekends. Suzanne took an instant liking to him, curious about his architectural practice. Joey, in a word, was confused—polite enough, but his only interest seemed to lie with the house itself, as he hadn’t been inside it since his father Edwin’s death three years ago. Thad was downright rude, refusing to shake either my hand or Neil’s.
By now Roxanne and Carl had wandered in, so I introduced everyone again, explaining that Roxanne was the attorney friend who had brought Neil and me together. As Roxanne stood there gushing about Carl Creighton’s recent exploits in the Illinois attorney general’s office, I realized that she bore a remarkable resemblance to my cousin Suzanne—they even had similar names. Suzanne was older than Roxanne by about ten years, but otherwise, they had a twinnish air about them. In their speech patterns, their style of dress, and their languid laughter, they appeared to imitate each other.
“My dear ,” Suzanne cooed at Roxanne, “you must feel utterly out of your element, up here in the provinces.”
“Actually,” she replied, “it feels a bit like a homecoming. I’ve always liked Wisconsin—I went to law school at Marquette.”
“Really?” I butted in. “I didn’t know that.”
“First in her class,” Carl bragged, hugging her waist.
Suzanne and Joey still had their coats on, and I offered to take them. Referring to the presents Joey and Thad carried, I said, “We have some things for you, too, but let’s save them till after dinner. You can put them under the tree for now.”
Joey managed to get his coat off without dropping the gifts, then eagerly got busy arranging things under the tree. Thad stood smirking, refusing to move. Suzanne prompted, “Thad, darling. Put your uncle Mark’s present under the tree.”
He pitched the small box underhand across the floor to where Joey squatted at the base of the tree.
“Thad!” his mother yelped. “That was a Tiffany clock .”
He shrugged, looking proud of himself. I wanted to slap him.
Roxanne broke the tension with a confused little laugh. “Just a moment,” she said. “I don’t think that Mark is Thad’s uncle. ” She put her fingers to her lips, thinking. “No. Mark and Suzanne are cousins, and Thad is Suzanne’s son, so unless I’m mistaken, that makes Mark and Thad cousins once removed, sometimes called second cousins.”
Carl Creighton laughed. “That’s my Roxy—always the stickler for detail.”
“That’s way over my head,” I told the group.
Suzanne ushered Thad to my side and studied the two of us together. “I just don’t see them as cousins, ” she told Roxanne, “‘removed’ or otherwise. For simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with ‘uncle.’”
“And ‘nephew,’” I agreed, resting my hand on
A middle-aged man stepped timidly into the house, looking about the entry hall, getting his bearings. He carried an armload of gifts, picking absentmindedly at their ribbons, fidgeting with the oversize buttons of his topcoat. I peered into his face, and yes, I could discern the features of the hyperactive kid who had hounded me with his friendship during my long-ago visit. It was Joey.
He was followed by a teenager who carried one small package, shivering because he hadn’t worn a coat. He had not yet grown out of his adolescent gawkiness, and while his face showed the promise of some handsome features, they had not yet gelled. His slunky bearing telegraphed that he’d rather be anywhere else, and he absolutely refused to let his eyes meet mine. It was Thad.
Neil was there in the hall as well, and I managed a round of introductions, bravely referring to him as my lover, briefly explaining the arrangement we had agreed to regarding our alternating weekends. Suzanne took an instant liking to him, curious about his architectural practice. Joey, in a word, was confused—polite enough, but his only interest seemed to lie with the house itself, as he hadn’t been inside it since his father Edwin’s death three years ago. Thad was downright rude, refusing to shake either my hand or Neil’s.
By now Roxanne and Carl had wandered in, so I introduced everyone again, explaining that Roxanne was the attorney friend who had brought Neil and me together. As Roxanne stood there gushing about Carl Creighton’s recent exploits in the Illinois attorney general’s office, I realized that she bore a remarkable resemblance to my cousin Suzanne—they even had similar names. Suzanne was older than Roxanne by about ten years, but otherwise, they had a twinnish air about them. In their speech patterns, their style of dress, and their languid laughter, they appeared to imitate each other.
“My dear ,” Suzanne cooed at Roxanne, “you must feel utterly out of your element, up here in the provinces.”
“Actually,” she replied, “it feels a bit like a homecoming. I’ve always liked Wisconsin—I went to law school at Marquette.”
“Really?” I butted in. “I didn’t know that.”
“First in her class,” Carl bragged, hugging her waist.
Suzanne and Joey still had their coats on, and I offered to take them. Referring to the presents Joey and Thad carried, I said, “We have some things for you, too, but let’s save them till after dinner. You can put them under the tree for now.”
Joey managed to get his coat off without dropping the gifts, then eagerly got busy arranging things under the tree. Thad stood smirking, refusing to move. Suzanne prompted, “Thad, darling. Put your uncle Mark’s present under the tree.”
He pitched the small box underhand across the floor to where Joey squatted at the base of the tree.
“Thad!” his mother yelped. “That was a Tiffany clock .”
He shrugged, looking proud of himself. I wanted to slap him.
Roxanne broke the tension with a confused little laugh. “Just a moment,” she said. “I don’t think that Mark is Thad’s uncle. ” She put her fingers to her lips, thinking. “No. Mark and Suzanne are cousins, and Thad is Suzanne’s son, so unless I’m mistaken, that makes Mark and Thad cousins once removed, sometimes called second cousins.”
Carl Creighton laughed. “That’s my Roxy—always the stickler for detail.”
“That’s way over my head,” I told the group.
Suzanne ushered Thad to my side and studied the two of us together. “I just don’t see them as cousins, ” she told Roxanne, “‘removed’ or otherwise. For simplicity’s sake, let’s stick with ‘uncle.’”
“And ‘nephew,’” I agreed, resting my hand on
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