Q Is for Quarry

For one thing, she told me, in the giddiest manner possible, that my mother was regarded as an idol among her living nieces and nephews. While this was meant as flattery, I felt it dehumanized the woman whom I'd never really known. I resented their prior claim, just as I resented the fact that my pet name for our aunt Virginia, that being "Aunt Gin," was a term already in wide use among these same family members. So, too, was the penchant for peanut-butter-and-pickle sandwiches, which I'd assumed was a secret link between my mother and me. Granted, my reaction was less than rational, but I was left feeling diminished by the idle tales Liza told.
    Tasha was okay. She'd bailed me out of a jam once and on another occasion she'd hired me for a job. That hadn't turned out well, but the fault wasn't hers.
    Belatedly, I said, "Fine. How are you?" We always have conversations that sound like they're punctuated by transatlantic delays.
    "I'm good, thanks. Listen, it looks like Mother and I will be coming down your way to shop and we wondered if you were free. We can have lunch if you like, or maybe get together for drinks later in the afternoon."
    "Today? Ah. Thanks for asking, but I just started work on a case and I'm completely tied up. Maybe another time." I hoped I didn't sound as insincere as I felt.
    "Must be a busy time of year."
    "Feast or famine," I said. "It's the nature of the beast." I was really trying my best not to be prickly with her. Even in the briefest of conversations, we often manage to butt heads on the subject of family relationships. She favors closer ties while I favor none.
    "I suspect you'd refuse no matter what."
    "Not at all." I let a silence fall.
    We breathed in each other's ears until she said, "Well. Mother will be down again on Tuesday. I know she's anxious to talk to you. Are you still in the office on Capillo?"
    "Actually, I'm not. I've rented a bungalow on Caballeria. I just moved in a couple of months ago."
    "I'll tell her."
    "Great. That's fine. Not a problem."
    "I don't want you to take offense, but I hope you'll be polite."
    "Gee, Tasha, I'll try to behave myself. It'll be a struggle, of course."
    I could hear the smile in her voice. "You have to give me credit for persistence."
    "Right. Duly noted. I have you down for that."
    "You don't have to be sarcastic."
    "That's my dry sense of humor."
    "Why are you such a pain in the butt? Couldn't you try meeting me halfway?"
    "I don't understand why you insist on pursuing me."
    "For the same reason you insist on rebuffing me. Being pigheaded is a family trait."
    "I'll give you that. It still pisses me off that Grand thinks she could treat my parents like shit and then waltz in years later and make it all evaporate."
    "What's that got to do with us? Pam and Liza and I didn't do anything to your parents or Aunt Gin. Why should we be held accountable for Grand? Yes, she behaved badly. Yes, she's a bitch, but so what? Maybe your mother and Aunt Gin delivered tit-for-tat. At the time your parents died, we were only kids. We didn't know what was going on and neither did you. It seems ridiculous to nurse such bad feelings. To what end? We're family. You're stuck with us whether you like it or not."
    "So far, I've done very well without 'family.' So why can't you drop the subject and get on with life?"
    "Why can't you?" She paused, trying to gain control of herself.
    "I'm sorry. Let's try again. I don't understand why every time I call we get into these wrangles."
    "We don't get into wrangles every time."
    "Yes, we do."
    "No, we don't!"
    "Name one conversation when we didn't come to blows."
    "I can name three. You hired me for a job. We had lunch together that day and we got along fine. Since then, we've chatted on the phone two or three times without bickering."
    "That's true," she said, reluctantly, "but I'm always aware of the anger percolating just under the surface."
    "So what? Look, Tasha, maybe in time we'll find a way to settle our differences. Until then, we're not going to get anywhere arguing about whether or not we're arguing. I don't claim to be rational. I'm nuts. Why don't you let it go at that?"
    "Okay. Enough said. We just wanted you to know we're still interested. We hoped yesterday's visit to the ranch would provide an opening."
    "Ah, that. How'd you find out?"
    "Arne Johanson called Pam. He said he saw someone who looked so much like your mother, it gave him goose bumps. I was surprised you'd even step a foot on the family