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“Hey, I tried to call when I found out,” Matt said. “Didn’t I, Elizabeth?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And she told me you and Dad were going to be overnight in Wilmington,” Matt said, and added, “I even tried to call you, Sigmund Freud.”
“I thought that had to be you. Sophomoric humor.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask,” Patricia Payne said.
“He told the receptionist to tell me they were going to repossess my television unless they got paid,” Amy said.
“Matt, you didn’t,” Patricia Payne said, but her face revealed that she found a certain element of humor in the situation.
“I walked into the office, and the receptionist, all embarrassed, whispered in my ear and said that the finance company had called-”
Mrs. Newman laughed out loud.
“I’m going to get you for that, wiseass,” Amy said.
“I put a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator after Denny called,” Patricia Payne said. “Go get your father and we’ll open it. He’s in the living room.”
“Uncle Denny called?” Matt asked.
“We’re invited to the promotion ceremony,” Patricia said. “Denny’s very proud of you. We all are.”
“You, too, Sigmund?” Matt asked.
Dr. Payne gave him the finger.
“And that goes for your boss, too,” she said. “We had dinner Monday night and he didn’t say a goddamn word.”
“All Peter knew was that The List was out. He didn’t know when the promotion would come through, except that it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. That’s probably why he didn’t tell you.”
She snorted.
Matt walked out of the kitchen, down a narrow corridor, and through a door into a rather small, comfortably furnished room with book-lined walls, and the chairs arranged to face a large television screen.
Brewster C. Payne was sitting with his feet up on the matching ottoman of a red leather armchair, one of two. He was a tall, angular, dignified man in his early fifties.
He had a legal brief in his lap and his right hand was wrapped around a glass of whiskey.
“You were on the boob tube,” he said. “You looked distressed. ”
“I was,” Matt said, and then went on: “Amy’s pissed that Uncle Denny told you before I did. For the record, I tried to call just as soon as I found out.”
“That’s not why she’s… somewhat less than enthusiastic, ” Brewster Payne said. “I think she was hoping you’d fail the test and leave the police department.”
“Mother’s got champagne in the fridge,” Matt said, changing the subject. “But I’d rather have a quick one of those.”
Payne pointed at a bottle of scotch, sitting with a silver water pitcher, a silver ice bowl, and several glasses. Matt helped himself, and while he was doing so, Brewster Payne rose from his chair. When Matt raised his glass, his father held out his glass and touched Matt’s.
“It’s what you want, Matt, so I’m happy for you. And proud. Number one!”
“Thank you.”
“You can stay for supper? We bought some shrimp on the road from Wilmington…”
“Sure. I made shrimp last night for Chad and Daffy, but what the hell…”
