"Wouldn't you like to go with Jim to pick up Vicky? It would be a shame if someone of the family wasn't along, don't you think?"
"Oh Daddy, do I have to? Perry gave me a terrible headache and I was on my way upstairs." Carl shook his head.
"I hope that's all he gave you," he said, lifting his eyebrow twice. That usually meant he was about to laugh. Abby blushed in spite of her resolve never to be embarrassed about anything. Then she realized that her father had smelled the sharp aroma of Perry's semen on her hands. She hid them behind her and hurried upstairs on the run.
CHAPTER THREE
Vicky wasn't at all surprised that her mother didn't come down for breakfast. Even to welcome her home after a month at Aunt Pat's. Florence's headaches were famous. Sometimes she used them for weeks on end. Sister Abby had learned the ploy as well. She'd gotten out of going to meet the plane with Jim by pretending some complicated migraine. Vicky knew because Jim had told her himself. She and Jim were old friends, fellow miscreants of the McNarey Estate. Though the chauffeur was quite a bit older, he treated her as a peer. When things got strange at school, Vicky had always taken her problems to Jimmy, as she liked to call him. He was a large man, a native of Canada, whose soft-spoken kindness had always appealed to Vicky. She had to admit that she had more affection for him than her mother or sister or even her brother. Only Carl, her father, rivaled Jimmy in her personal popularity poll.
"I suppose Jim told you that your cousin is staying with us for awhile," Carl said, passing a plateful of melon pieces.