“Only believe the stories that make me sound studly.” He took my chin in his three-fingered hand and examined my face closely. I didn't flinch away. “Goddamn it, you're a Goertz all right. Got my daddy's eyes, you do, and that thick blond hair.” I twitched and he released my chin, patting me on the cheek. “I know Bob Don's real proud of you and it's a pleasure to have you in the fold. Welcome to our family, son.”
“Thanks, Mr. Goertz.”
He grinned. “Don't call me that. I'm Uncle Mutt. And I'm mean as a junkyard dog when I get riled, so mind your manners.” He seemed accustomed to barking out orders and comments without being crossed. After giving my face another long appraisal, he offered his good hand to Can-dace.
“My goodness, boy, you can pick them. What's your name, sweetheart?”
I quickly introduced Candace and saw the same glint of appreciation in Uncle Mutt's eyes as I'd seen in Cousin Tom's. Apparently the Goertz men were roosters. As if I hadn't already known that.
“Honey, if you're as smart as you are pretty, this boy's made the choice of a lifetime.”
Candace blushed. Really. The woman who'd been a continual rock, who seemed unflappable by all the ups and downs of our lives, went red as a beet. She ran a fidgety hand through a lank of brown hair. I wasn't sure if she was flustered by the magnitude of the compliment or by the whole lifetime suggestion that lay underneath Uncle Mutt's accolade. Or maybe it was simply Uncle Mutt himself-his presence in a room was overwhelming. No wonder he'd been such a legendary ladies' man. So much for Candace being on guard.
“If Jordan's destined to look like you when he's older, then I'll have made the smart choice.” Candace offered her best belle smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Philip Bedrich make a mock-gagging motion.
Uncle Mutt guffawed, squeezed her hand, and punched me lightly in the shoulder. “You got you a live wire there, boy! All right, I stand apologetic and corrected, Miss Can-dace.” He took me by one arm, Candace with the other, and introduced me to the rest of my new family.
“And this is my nephew Philip Bedrich,” Uncle Mutt indicated the loosely lounging fellow on the couch. “Don't give him money.”
Philip Bedrich colored at the gibe, but gave me a weak smile. “Uncle Mutt's a bully, but he's our bully. You'll soon grow used to his little tirades.” He didn't have the physi-cality evident in his twin, Tom-he wasn't heavy, but his body was rounder, softer, and his indolent pose on the couch appeared practiced. His clothes looked expensive, but not in the best taste-a showy gold necklace adorned his throat, and his shirt was designed for a younger man. A slow, languorous drawl oozed from his mouth when he spoke. I shook Philip's hand; his palm felt flaccid against my skin.
“I met your brother already.” I turned to indicate Tom, but he'd left the library.
“Aren't you lucky?” Philip laughed dryly. “Tom rarely opts to socialize with the rest of us. We're not smart enough for Mr. Scientist.”
“Scientist?” I asked.
“Tom's an oceanographer. Spends days talking with fish.” Philip sipped at his drink.
“Don't act so envious.” Uncle Mutt jabbed Philip in the shoulder and turned back to me. “Philip's my special project right now in the training camp of life. He's hit the bankruptcy court so often-”
“For God's sake, Uncle Mutt! That's private business.” Philip's face colored with anger and I felt embarrassed for him. I resolved not to share any secrets with Uncle Mutt. He apparently served as the family megaphone.
“Ain't no private business involving my money in my house,” Uncle Mutt declared. “We're all going to put our heads together to get you out of your mess, Philip.”
I happened to glance over at the centenarian in the plush leather chair; a wry smile accentuated his many wrinkles as he watched the exchange. His spotted, palsied hands wrapped around the head of his cane and his eyes glittered with intelligence.
“Thank you, I don't need anyone's help.” Philip glared at Uncle Mutt.
“That, Philip, definitely remains to be seen.” Uncle Mutt steered me away from the fuming Philip and toward the gentleman by the fireplace. Aunt Lolly scurried to him and plopped Sweetie on top of the light cotton blanket that covered his legs.
“Get that goddamned rat-dog off me, Lolly!” the old man bellowed. His voice reminded me of nails raking down a chalkboard. Aunt Lolly ignored his request. She stroked the old man's head absentmindedly and he flinched away in annoyance. She leaned down and hollered in his ear, “Uncle Jake! This here's Bob Don's boy and his girlfriend!”
“Goddamn it, Lolly!” Uncle Jake bellowed back, pressing fingers defensively against the cup of his ear. “I ain't that deaf. I can see clearly who Jordan and Candace are.” He offered me an arthritic hand. “How you, son? My sister Mildred was your great-grandmother.” He jabbed a finger toward Mutt and Lolly. “They ain't her kids, though. Praise God.”
Lolly slapped Jake's shoulder playfully-but a little too hard for my liking. She scooped up the offended Sweetie in her arms. “Uncle Jake likes to remind Mutt and me we ain't his blood kin. But we do all the takin' care of him that he needs. He forgets how kind we are sometimes.” A vinegar tone lay underneath her honeyed voice.
“Hmmph,” Uncle Jake said, but he huddled down in his chair. Aunt Lolly crossed her arms, imprisoning Sweetie, and smiled beatifically at him. I took a step back-a sudden dislike of Lolly Throckmorton surged through me. Her bullying tone toward the old man riled me. Her sugary but hard-edged voice reminded me of a candied apple-with a razor hidden in it.
“Well, well, well,” a voice sounded behind us. I turned and saw a tall, buxom woman in her early fifties standing in the library entrance. She was resplendently attired in a brightly flowered blouse with white jeans. Her hair was dyed a dark auburn; her bright blue eyes were ringed with mascara. Under the makeup her face resembled a softened version of Bob Don's. She came forward and pecked Bob Don on the cheek.
“Hello, brother.” She favored Gretchen with a smile bordering on distasteful. “Gretchen, darling. Don't you look lively today?” Her smile rested on me. “This must be my new nephew.” She extended a hand. “How do you do, Jordan? I'm your aunt Cecilia Goertz.”
I shook her hand and introduced Candace while Gretchen trilled, “Sass, honey, I've been telling Jordy all about you and he's just so excited to meet you.”
“Yeah, I can see he's all atwitter over making my acquaintance.” She gave Candace a dismissive glance-one woman boldly appraising another-and turned her attention back to me.
“So you going by Goertz again, Sass?” Philip Bedrich called from his couch. He sipped at his iced tea and sucked on the lemon, letting the rind drop back into the glass. “After all, you do have a plethora of surnames to choose from.”
“You'll probably need to borrow a good name when you go bankrupt again, Philip. I'll loan you one with a good credit rating.” Sass, like the others, gave my face and my body an unwavering assessment. “You got all my brother's best features, honey. Did you get any of his brains?”
Bob Don laughed. “Hell, he got your nerve, Sass. Just keep prodding him; he can take care of himself.”
I wasn't anxious to get into a battle of repartee with Cecilia Goertz; she obviously had a nimble wit. Her eyes stayed locked on me as I fidgeted on my feet. One polished nail rested against her chin, tapping, and I imagined it running along an envelope's seal, securing a message of hate inside.
“Where's Aubrey, Sass? I want him to meet Jordan and Candace,” Uncle Mutt said.
“I don't know. Gettin' in touch with his inner child or some such garbage.” Sass sauntered to where Deborah Goertz stood by the drink cart and poured the last of the margaritas into a glass. She sipped and hummed appreciatively. She glanced over at Gretchen. “Where's your pick-me-up, darling? Thought you'd be parched after your long trip.”
Gretchen beamed with pride. “I'm sober now, Sass. I haven't had a drink in nearly a year.”
Sass ran a tongue along her lips. I watched her watch Gretchen. Apparently no congratulatory message was forthcoming from her sister-in-law.
“We're all very proud of Gretchen,” I ventured. Gretchen started in surprise but said nothing.
“I'm sure you must be.” Sass went over and kissed Gretchen lightly on the cheek. “I hope it won't bother you if the rest of us drink. I'm stone dry, darling.”
“Of course not,” Gretchen assured her, but I saw her gaze light on the glimmering bottles on the drink cart for the briefest of moments.
Sass smiled thinly, then wiped her fingers along Gretchen's cheek where she had kissed her. “Sorry. I shouldn't sip at that delicious margarita, then kiss you. I wouldn't want a trace of alcohol touching you,
