Free The Devil Has Dimples by Pepper Phillips Page A

her serve everyone, then sat.
    Lenny moaned a little after stuffing a large piece of cake
in his mouth.
    I smiled, like father, like son.
    “This is really good.”  Lenny said.  “But sex is better.”
    Margie nudged him with her hand.  “Behave.”
    He mouthed around another piece of cake.  “I am, I am.”
    There was deep affection between these two.  An honest
caring.  They looked happy.
    Grant wasn’t.  He sat there, eating politely, but distant. 
It was as though he wished he were a million miles away.  Perhaps in Tina’s
arms.
    The thought made my stomach clench.
    Lenny quickly finished his cake, and Margie hustled up and
cleared his place, then refilled his coffee cup.
    Grant pushed his half-eaten piece away.  “I’ve had enough.”
    I could tell that he was anxious to leave.  I picked up my
own half-finished plate and his and brought them to the sink.
    “Don’t worry about those.  I’ll take care of them.”  Margie
said.  She seemed tense.
    I decided that it was time to start digging for photos.
    “Grant, do you want me to help you look for those photos?”
    He seemed relieved.
    Lenny interjected.  “Margie, go help the girl find those
pictures, I need Grant’s help on my computer.  I can’t get the printer to
work.”
    Margie perked up.  “I’d love to.”
    She motioned for me to follow her and we left the room.  She
led the way down the hall and turned up the staircase.  The carpeting needed
replacement, and the banister could be repainted.  Everything shouted, update
me.
    She turned left at the head of the stairs and entered the
first room on the right.  She hesitated as she put her hand on the knob.
    “It’s just like he left it when he was a kid.”
    That surprised me.
    Opening the door, she motioned me inside.
    The room was huge, as most of the rooms in mansions generally
are.  There were several sports pennants on the walls along with pictures.  I
looked at them first.  Grant in a baseball uniform, holding a bat, looking so
young.  Then a photo of him with his father in a fishing boat.  There were
quite a few pictures, several dozen at least covering one wall.
    “She’s not in any of those.”  Margie said.
    “Oh.”
    “I put all his pictures in scrapbooks.”  She opened the
closet and went on tiptoe to reach something high.  “Can you get down that
green book on the top shelf?”
    “Sure.”  I reached up and grabbed the book in question, and
handed it to Margie.
    Margie brought it over to the bed and sat down on the edge. 
She began to search its contents.
    A picture on the nightstand caught my attention.  It must
have been Grant’s mother.  There were several pictures of her and him gracing
the wall, but this one was different.  It was the picture of a young woman,
caught in profile, holding her baby.  There was such a look of contentment on
her face.  It was as though she was in the perfect place of her life.  I
reached over and picked it up to examine it further.
    “That’s Lorraine.  Grant’s mother.”  Margie said sadly.
    “It’s a beautiful photograph.”  I stated softly.
    “She was a beautiful woman.”
    The tone in Margie’s voice caused me to turn around and face
her.
    Margie had tears in her eyes.  Margie hastily began to wipe
them away.  “I’m sorry.”
    I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder.  “There’s
nothing to be sorry about.”
    Margie gave a dry laugh.  “Oh, there’s plenty to be sorry
about.  I wish I could be Grant’s mother.  He’s the only child I will ever
have, yet...he hates me.”
    The woman was in anguish.  I sat next to her and put my arm
around her to comfort her.  “I don’t think he hates you.  But, maybe you should
talk to him.”
    “Oh,  I’d never do that.”  Margie finished wiping her tears
away.  She began to turn pages in the album, her hands trembling.  She stopped
at one photo and pointed to it.
    “He was so cute when he was a baby.”  Grant was sitting