- 7 -
- 7 -James looked over the rim of his teacup at me. “I didn’t know where to go but then I thought of Georgie.” He lifted his cup toward George who was coming back with a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt draped over his arm.
“Here are some dry clothes,” George said. “Do you wear boxers or briefs?”
Mother’s eyebrows twitched.
“Thanks, Buddy,” James said, putting down his cup—not on a coaster—and taking the clothes. He started to leave the room, presumably to change in our bedroom. Had I made the bed? I was usually fanatic about making it, but lately things had been chaotic in the morning.
“And the boxer/brief question?” James said, “I’ll never tell.” He gave Mother a surreptitious glance and a wink.
“Hey, where are you going?” I said. “What’s this all about someone trying to kil
