Inside The Mind Of Gideon Rayburn by Sarah Miller

Author:Sarah Miller [Sarah Miller]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

pork butt

Dr. Frye, the headmaster, is at a chamber music concert in Brookline. So Cockweed left them in the care of his wife, Mrs. Frye. For two hours, Gideon, Cullen, and Nicholas have been sitting at the foot of a large wooden antique dining table covered with dried flower cuttings, watching her putter about and braise a roast. Her kitchen is wood-paneled, and copper pots and baskets of garlic and tomatoes hang from hooks on the low ceiling. "Pci^k butt is such an excellent cut," she says. She's very breezy considering how much trouble they're in. But maybe she's just British and batty and consumed with her pork butt. "Inexpensive, yet succulent," she continues as she shuts the oven with a satisfied smile.

She's watching over them like a mother hen. There's nothing prison guard-y in her manner, but it's kind of clear that she's not going anywhere. So neither are they.

She opens a sizable bottle of white wine and pours some over a tall glass of ice.

"Jesus," Gid whispers to Cullen. "It's not fucking Sprite."

"Hey," Cullen whispers back, "I got a question for you."

Gid nods gravely.

Cullen narrows his eyes and makes his face very serious. "If there's a God," he says, "then why does my anus itch?"

They laugh the laughter of the condemned.

Mrs. Frye dumps her first glass of white wine into her mouth and immediately refills it. She adjusts her bun with a hairpin, dries a blue glass vase, and sets it down on the table. "Feel free to try your hand at arranging some of those ranunculus, roses, and lavender," she says. She cocks her head at Gideon, and her loose bun tips over to the side of her head. "You're new, aren't you?" she asks.

The telephone rings. It's the only vaguely modern thing in the house, and its space-age alert sound is sort of a

surprise.

"Excuse me!" Mrs. Frye cries out and whips the phone off the wall with a flourish. "Oh hello, dear," she says. "Yes. Yes, they're here, awaiting your judgment. Nicholas Westerbeck, Cullen McKay, and...I'm sorry, young man, I don't know your name. Funny, i know how you like your tea, but I don't know your name." She laughs, again chugging her wine down to the ice cubes.

Gid—it is about time—realizes at this moment that she is insane. "Gideon Rayburn," he says.

"Gideon Rayburn," she repeats. She winks at him. "You got the story from Gene, then?" Gene is Captain Cockweed's real name. Not surprising. She cradles the receiver under her chin and fiddles with her hair with both hands, producing several pins. She puts one of them back in, tucks the rest into her mouth, and speaks over them. "Certainly. Certainly. So you're going to fix the tire and then be over. I will call him, yes, by all means get off the phone if you're running out.. .Whoop!" She hangs up and sets her hands on her hips. "Lost him."

She dials. "Hello," she says. "This is Mrs. Frye. Just fine. A little excitement, indeed. Anyway, the doctor wanted me to tell you he'll be there in about forty-five minutes? All right.

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