Red Sky at Morning [antikvár]

Chapter One It- ¦ We were using the old blue china and the stainless steel cutlery, with place mats on the big oval table and odd-sized jelly glasses for the wine. The good stuff was all packed and stored, and the Salvation Army was due the next day for the leftovers. My mother called this last dinner a picnic, but she didn't wear her overalls to it. She had on the blue hostess gown with the purple flowers. Dad looked four sizes smaller in his newly delivered summer uniform, and the tight stock collar was giving him trouble. ^ , He kept swallowing and twisting his neck. The two and a half stripes looked good, though; they made a nice contrast with Jimbob Buel's civilian seersucker. He was holding a glass of my father's Tavel rosé, looking at the candlelight through the wine, í,.-the perfect Virginia connoisseur. He was probably thinking a j,! seventeen-year-old snot like me was too young to know its virtues. ^ Well, I do know its virtues, Jimbob boy. Paul and I knocked ^ off a bottle of it just last week, warm, a refined accompaniment to cornbread and beef cracklins. Courtney Ann Conway squeezed my leg under the table. 'Ah bet you'll be sorry, leavin' Mobile with all the pawties and all comin' up.' I didn't answer right away. I was figuring how to get Jimbob into the Bankhead Tunnel, and pump a little mustard gas in there. If I could block the exits, and use two pumps, maybe 'Josh, are you listenin' to me?' ^ 'I'm sorry. Corky. I know I'll miss a lot of parties, but I really >7 ^