The Last Cadillac by Nancy Nau Sullivan Read Free Book Online Page B

could be made. Maybethe cat would like Florida, some day. I kept saying “the cat” because it had so many names, including Pansy, Kitty, Blackie, Wart, and Puny, which is what Tick called it. Puny seemed to stick.
    Jack appeared one evening as I was taking lasagna out of the oven. I’d been thinking about Puny, and I was just about to bring up the warm and fuzzy subject of finding a temporary home for the cat with Jack. A smile came over me. Here he was, taking the time to sit down with his father and his big sister and have dinner.
    But he wasn’t there for Italian, or to talk about the cat. The expression on his face was anything but warm and fuzzy. He was there to give me instructions.
    â€œI want to see the checkbook and all the receipts,” he said.
    â€œFor what?” I was stunned, yet again, especially since Jack knew the accountant and banker were involved in financial decisions for Dad.
    â€œWhat do you mean, for what? For your purchases, with Dad’s credit card.”
    The blood rose to my head. I was sure it would spurt out my ears. His cold tone filled every space in the kitchen as he stood there, with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t even sit down. He just stood there, watching me, irritating me.
    â€œAre you serious? May I ask why?” I wanted to drop the lasagna on his new Cole Haan loafers.
    â€œI need to know.”
    â€œOnce again, why?”
    â€œWe need an accounting of everything you spend.”
    â€œJoe Glotzbach is getting a detailed accounting of every check I write and every charge I make.”
    He deflated like I’d stuck a pin in him.
    â€œI can’t believe what I am hearing.” I muttered the lastand shoved the lasagna to the back of the stovetop. Tomato sauce leaped out on to my blouse.
    â€œDon’t take it the wrong way.”
    â€œReally? How should I take it when my little brother demands that I give him an accounting of the expenses for taking care of our Dad? How should I take it?”
    â€œJulia wants to know, too. I haven’t gotten hold of Lucy yet.”
    He didn’t move, or change his frigid tone.
    â€œWhy don’t you ask Dad?” I said, and immediately thought better of it. “No, call Joe. He does Dad’s taxes. I’m sure he’ll be happy to oblige you.”
    I was dumbfounded. Jack had his own business, and Jack was insisting that I give him an accounting of the American Express bill. His insinuation that I didn’t know what I was doing, and that I was profligate, was doubly insulting.
    â€œI think this conversation is over.” I felt ill. I felt confused. I did have to use Dad’s credit card for a number of expenses, not the least of which was running the dollhouse. Last I checked, I hadn’t been to Saks for a new outfit, although I certainly could have used one.
    I left Jack standing in the kitchen with his fists stuck in his pockets and a self-righteous look on his face. There was absolutely no love lost at the prospect of getting the hell out of there as fast as I could and getting down to Florida, using Dad’s American Express Card.

6
HUBBY COMES AGAIN
    I cleaned up the lasagna. And the next day I had another mess on my hands. The Ex appeared at the front door. I opened it, and we stood practically nose-to-nose. It was a shock. I still had trouble looking him in the eye, but I had no other choice. It was that, or look at my shoes. His hair, more grey than I remembered, was clipped very short, military style, and his cheeks were smooth and scrubbed pink like he’d taken a wire brush to himself. He was a strong, trim man, but he wasn’t happy about his short legs, which placed him among the short people of the world. He hated Randy Newman’s song about short people who have no reason to live—which Lucy, in one of her devilish moments, sang to him. But he was short, and standing a step down at the front door, he was even shorter. It never