“Denise,” Alfred said impatiently, as if she were speaking nonsense, “please talk to Gary.” “OK, I will. I will.” Alfred’s hands bounced in the air. “I don’t know how much time I have! You and your mother need to get along. You and Gary need to get along.” “Al, you have plenty of—” “We all need to get along!” Denise had never been a crier, but her face was crumpling up. “Dad, all right,” she said. “I’ll talk to him.” “Your mother wants a Christmas in St. Jude.” “I’ll talk to him. I promise.” “Well.” He turned abruptly. “That’s enough of that.” His black raincoat was flapping and whipping in
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