“Pell wouldn’t be the first gay person who wanted to link himself to the future. It’s human nature,” I said.
Yet I couldn’t help wondering just how furious Pell really had been.
Enough to kill?
14
« ^ » “
It was nearly eleven before the last visitor left and I was still on the shadowy porch, by then half drowsing beneath a Peruvian shawl on Pell’s wicker swing.
Drew had gone back over to Dixie’s and must have left from there because she wasn’t with the others when they came to see about the girls.
“You might as well let Shirley Jane stay over,” Dixie told the Ragsdales as they settled wearily into wicker chairs. “Lynnette’s spent the night here before so it wouldn’t feel strange to her if she should wake up. You don’t mind, do you, Pell?”
Pell made a murmur of assent from the other end of the swing.
“He’s very good with children,” said Dixie.
“I’m sure,” said Millie’s husband.
Two clipped syllables, but they told me everything I needed to hear about Quentin Ragsdale’s opinion of homosexuals.
“We’ll go on to Chan’s house,” said Millie. “It’s not all that far and I have a key.”
“Don’t be silly,” Dixie protested. “It’s fifteen miles. You and Quentin can have the guest room, Shirley Jane and Lynnette can sleep in my room if you want her near you and I’ll take the couch.”
I gathered by this that the California decorina had probably found a bed somewhere with a more partylike atmosphere.
“Thank you,” said Millie, “but I really think we’d all be more comfortable if Quentin and I took the girls and went over there. Besides, I’ll need to look through Chan’s papers and see about transferring Lynnie’s school records.”
“School records?” asked Pell.
“I know it’s late in the year, but the quicker we can get her settled into her new school, the easier it’ll be on her.”
“Wait a minute!” said Dixie. “What the L-M-N are you talking about? You’re not taking Lynnette anywhere.”
“But surely you know that Chan asked me to be her guardian if anything happened to him?”
Pell turned to Dixie. “I thought you said Chan tore up that will.”
“He did. Last week when he applied for passports. He was going through the papers in his lockbox, looking for Lynnette’s birth certificate. He saw how hard this move was on me and asked if I’d feel better about things if he made me her guardian. And then he took out the envelope that had his will in it and tore it in half.”
“Did he make a new will?” Quentin Ragsdale asked sharply.
“I don’t know,” Dixie said. “All I know is that he tore up the old one. I saw him.”
“But if he didn’t make a new one, I still have the copy he sent me and he definitely named me executor and guardian.” Millie gazed at Dixie with tearful defiance. “It’s what my brother wanted.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Ragsdale,” I said, “but is your copy signed and witnessed or notarized?”
She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. “No.”
“Then I suggest you hire an attorney. Without a signed will, it’ll be up to the court to decide who’ll administer your brother’s estate and have guardianship of his child.”
“Who
“No,” I said.
“She’s my friend,” Dixie told her. “Deborah Knott.
Quentin Ragsdale gave me an angry look. “I thought judges weren’t allowed to practice law or give legal advice.”
I shrugged. “That wasn’t legal advice. That was just common sense.”
“Look,” Pell said in a reasonable voice. “You people don’t want to get into a fight over Lynnette tonight, do you? You’re tired and unhappy and—”
“And we don’t need any of your pansy platitudes,” said Ragsdale.
“Now just a minute,” Dixie said, jumping to her feet.
“Grandmama?” Lynnette stood at the porch door in her nightgown, barefooted, her braid half undone, sleepy- eyed and troubled. “How come everybody’s yelling?”
