Baroque and Desperate Read Online Free PDF Page A

the sprawling shade of a live oak tree in front of the Tilman Administration Building.She was not alone, and from what I could see, her companion appeared to be of the male persuasion. I strained to see more.
    It pains me to say this again, but it is therapeutic; my daughter has terrible taste in men. I suppose I am to blame for that. Just look at the example I set for her. It would be nice to blame it on genetics, but Daddy was a wonderful man, and so were both my grandfathers. No, it all goes back to that fateful day when I met Susan’s father on a water slide, and didn’t have the sense to realize that the slide wasn’t the slipperiest thing around.
    I found a place to park behind the music department and by the time I hoofed it around to the front lawn the young man was gone. I know his disappearance was incidental, because the second Susan looked up and saw me, her eyes grew wide as magnolia blossoms.
    She jumped up. The one good thing her daddy gave her was six inches of height. At five feet three she towers over me.
    â€œMama!”
    â€œHey, Susan—”
    â€œDidn’t Nana tell you I was sorry? I was going to mail the check, I really was—”
    I hugged her. I imagine a gazelle being hugged by a python has a similar reaction. We were, after all, in the open, in broad daylight, and I am her mother. At least the gazelle has a chance of escaping.
    â€œMama, don’t,” she gasped, “there are people looking.”
    That was nonsense, because at the moment we were completely alone, if you didn’t count the couple intertwined next to the bushes fifty yards away.Their eyes were certainly not on us. I let go anyway.
    â€œI just don’t want you getting away before I have my say.”
    She sat down glumly.
    I sat cross-legged, facing her. “I’m not mad, dear.”
    â€œYou’re not ?”
    â€œNo. These things happen. I forgot to mail my insurance in once myself.”
    â€œYou did ?”
    â€œYes, but—well that was a long time ago. The point is, I understand completely.”
    â€œYou do ?”
    I nodded. It’s harder to spot a growing nose on a bobbing face.
    â€œI really was going to mail it, Mama. In fact, I was on my way to the post office when a friend asked me if I’d help him look up something in the library for a quiz.”
    â€œIs that the same friend you were talking to a few minutes ago?”
    She turned the color of a ripe pomegranate. “Were you spying on me?”
    â€œOf course, not, dear. It’s just that when I drove up I saw you talking to a young man. Is he your boyfriend?”
    â€œMama!”
    â€œBe coy if you want, dear. Just don’t expect me to tell you about the hunk with the Jaguar who’s taking me to the beach.”
    I seldom drink, I don’t smoke, and I haven’t done you-know-what for ages. One of the few pleasures I get out of life is shocking my kids.
    â€œGet out of town! I don’t believe it!”
    â€œIt’s true, dear. Well, we’re not going to thebeach exactly. But close enough. His grandmother has a house down near Georgetown.”
    â€œHis grandmother,” she said and sniffed. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Does he really have a Jaguar?”
    â€œYou bet. And a tan like you wouldn’t believe.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œUnh-unh. You first.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Geez! All right, his name is Randy, and he’s just a friend.”
    â€œIs he a student here?”
    â€œYes, he’s a student. Now, can we drop him and talk about your hunk?”
    I suppressed my urge to jump up and do a little soft-shoe victory dance. Or maybe burst into a rousing rendition of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy”.
    â€œWell, my hunk—his name is Tradd Maxwell, and—”
    â€œOoh, sick! Tradd Maxwell is too young for you, Mama. That’s disgusting.”
    I felt as surprised as the python, had