Too Far to Say Far Enough: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

head.”
    Desmond at least had the smarts to look guilty. When Mercedes’s black eyes flashed like that and she drew herself up to her full five-eight, I usually felt guilty myself, even if I hadn’t done anything.
    “Go set Gigi and Rochelle straight, Clarence,” I said. “And stay out of the tiramisu until after the ceremony.”
    Mercedes gave him another jiggle and let him go. He grabbed the hand that wasn’t still holding the tray and brought it to his lips.
    “Don’t you be tryin’ that with me,” she said. But I could see her pressing back a voluptuous smile.
    “Something I should know about?” I said when he’d escaped.
    “Just the usual when somebody new come into the House—but nothin’ you need to be worryin’ about today. This is your day, you and Desmond.” She deftly shifted the tray. “Now I need to get rid of these dishes, is what I need to do. Where is Sherry? She s’pose to be helpin’ me.”
    Mercedes disappeared into the kitchen before I could tell her Sherry was outside putting her game face back on.
    I tried again to make my way to Chief on the front porch. We now only had about five minutes left before the ceremony and I would have loved to at least finish off that reassuring hug.
    This time I got as far as the entrance hall. Who in the world had left Ms. Willa parked there in her wheelchair? Although if Ms. Willa hadn’t wanted to be there, we’d be hearing about it. The bluish mane fell over her collar as she leaned back and pursed her entire wizened face at Desmond’s framed artwork displayed in the entryway.
    “Your boy did these?” Her voice never failed to remind me of a terrier’s, though she lookedmore feline than canine. Since neither animal had an azure tint to its fur, Ms. Willa was actually her own breed. No one ever argued with that. Or her.
    “Hard to believe this comes out of him, isn’t it?” I said.
    From the front porch, I could hear the resonance of Chief’s voice in conversation with somebody, and I looked longingly at the door. But I sat on the edge of the old church pew that flanked the wall and pulled a throw pillow into my lap.
    Ms. Willa pointed a knotty finger at Desmond’s drawing of me, the one I unabashedly thought was the best thing up there. “Is that supposed to be you?” she barked. Yipped, actually.
    “It is,” I said.
    “He made your face too long and your mouth too big.”
    “It’s a caricature, Ms. Willa. See? He’s made Owen’s teeth huge and his face all pruney. Kind of captures his optimism.”
    Ms. Willa’s nose wrinkled. “Owen goes on about the boy like he’s the next Leonardo da Vinci. I don’t see it myself.”
    “I would love to sit here and debate art with you,” I said, “but I need to—”
    “How’s my boutique doing?”
    Before I could answer, the front door burst open and a bulging black trash bag entered, followed by Erin O’Hare, Desmond’s history teacher. The humidity had frizzed her massive tresses into a mahogany-colored white-girl Afro, which accounted for Desmond calling her Miss All-Hair.
    “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I went by my place to pick up these clothes for the boutique. I found some great stuff at the consignment stores in Orlando and got it all for a song.”
    I came off the old pew like a shot. “Let me help!” I said.
    “We’ve got it handled.”
    That came from Chief, backed up by Bonner Bailey, who was wearing his Bailey Realty nametag as if everyone in town didn’t already know him. Chief took the bag from Erin and Bonner hiked a second one over his shoulder.
    “Excuse me, ladies,” Bonner said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
    “You’re not—” I said.
    But they hurried on through, jaw muscles working to hold back laughter. Traitors.
    “Ms. Willa,” Erin said, “you and I are going to keep the Sisters in merchandise, aren’t we?”
    “The idea is for them to sell the merchandise.” Ms. Willa’s papery paws were folded in the lap of today’s all-puce