The Girl Who Ran Off With Daddy by David Handler

fireplace up here.”
    “Stop it! And then I knitted. I’m still trying to finish that baby blanket for my cousin Abigail. That bovine girl, meanwhile, sat in the parlor staring at reruns— The Brady Bunch, Gilligan’s Island, The Partridge Family —”
    “My God, her brains must have oozed right out onto the sofa.”
    “All the while stuffing her face on potato chips and cheese puffs.”
    I frowned. “Where did she get those?”
    “I let her take the Land Rover down to Reynolds’, which I immediately regretted. She was gone so long I was afraid she’d driven it into a ditch.” She shot me a worried look. “She’s a flipper, you know.”
    “You mean she watches Flipper, too?”
    Lulu stirred. Flipper happens to be her own personal favorite.
    “I mean she throws up afterward.”
    “Well, who doesn’t?”
    “After she eats, you gherkin. She’s a binger. Inhales a whole bag of chips and then tosses them. She refused any real food—wouldn’t touch dinner. It’s not a good thing, Hoagy. I know women who’ve ended up in the hospital from it.”
    “Did you two talk at all?”
    “Well, she did ask me at one point if it was true that Flo Henderson and Barry Williams did the big naughty.”
    I shook my head disgustedly. “How can she waste her time on such crap?”
    “It’s from the past,” Merilee replied mildly. “She’s fascinated by our cultural heritage, much the same way we were fascinated by Bogart and Bette Davis.”
    “That’s different. That stuff was good. ”
    “Darling, you’re starting to sound like an aged foof.”
    “Only because I’m starting to feel like one.”
    In her bassinet, Tracy hiccoughed and started to let out distress signals. Merilee went over to her and gathered her up, cradling her in her arms. “Your mother called last night,” she mentioned off-handedly.
    “Why? What did she want?” I demanded.
    She stiffened. “Don’t bark at me, mister.”
    I sipped my coffee and tried it again. “What did she want?”
    “She wondered if one of us could run over to the Department of Motor Vehicles for her. The registration is up on their Cadillac.”
    Always a Cadillac. New one every two years. Always bought, never leased. Leases were for salesmen and con artists. “What did you tell her?”
    “That I’d be happy to take care of it.”
    “Great. And while you’re waiting on line at the DMV you can fill out your application for sainthood.”
    Merilee’s jaw tightened, red blotches forming on her cheeks. “Hoagy, I’m trying to be patient and understanding, because I understand just how painful this is for you. But you’re not making it easy for me. In fact, you’re not making it easy for anyone, including yourself.” She waited for me to say something. When I didn’t she took a deep breath and kept going. “She also wanted to know if we’re coming by on Sunday. She said he really, really looks forward to it. Tracy makes him so—”
    “I don’t know,” I broke in curtly. “I have to go to the city for a couple of days. To see Ruth.”
    “You’re going to try and patch things up between them. Is that it?”
    “I don’t think anyone can do that.”
    “But you’re going to try,” she pressed.
    “I’m going to see her. If she’ll see me.”
    “And what of our guests?”
    “They’ll entertain themselves. Particularly in the afternoon.”
    “I didn’t need to know that, darling. I really didn’t.” She poked at Tracy’s tummy with a long, slender finger, eliciting giggles. “I do think it’s rather odd, Hoagy,” she said softly.
    “What is, Merilee?”
    “How you can care so much about the health and well-being of other people’s families. And so little about your own.”
    “I don’t think that’s odd at all, Merilee. In fact, that’s my idea of totally, perfectly normal.”
    The air got warmer as I got closer to town, the cool drizzle turning into a steamy tropical rain, with sudden gusts of wind and lightning crackling angrily across