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Elizabeth only smoked when she was really upset. The blue-grey cloud of smoke enveloped her and drifted toward him. "Answer me this, Theodore Frazier," she hissed, "what do you think is going to happen if Charlie's gift actually works?" |
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He stared back at his wife in disbelief. "You can't be serious," he challenged. |
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"You bet your sweet ass I'm serious," she thundered. "Think about it. Think about what would happen if your father did come back." |
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His smile was beginning to fade. Theodore had always been short on patience, and what little he had was already starting to slip away. "Jesus Christ, Betty, go to bed. It's a goddamn joke. Some broad has found a way to milk the tourists by calling herself a witch and selling them jars full of dirty water. What's the big deal? It's my brother who ought to feel like a fool. He's the one who bought it." |
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"I can't buy it," his wife snapped back at him. "I've read about things like this. They work. I'm telling you, Theodore, they work. And if this one does, we've lost everything we've worked so hard to get." |
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Theodore had heard enough. He slid back down in the bed and started to roll over. Then he stopped. He had figured out a way to put the lid on his wife's concern. "Look," he said, his voice half-muffled by the pillow, "if it |
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