CHAPTER 9: SOMETHING WEIRD IS DEFINITELY GOING ON
There were no squeals of delight in the living room downstairs. For only a few moments later, Howard Gordon returned through the front door, still wearing his corduroy jacket, and his wife ran up to him, hissing, "Howard! What's wrong with you? Where's the suit?"
"It isn't there!" Howard hissed back.
"Well, why not? Didn't you put it in the trunk before we left?"
"I did!" he insisted, then, "At least I thought I did. But I'm telling you, it's not there!"
"Are you telling me...You forgot?" Roberta accused. "You forgot? On purpose?"
"I didn't! Well, maybe I…but not on purpose! I mean, there was so much to remember: the cake, the presents, the wine…"
"I remembered the cake and the presents and the wine!" Roberta shot back. "All you had to remember was the suit. And you forgot it! Oh! Oh! How typical!"
"Typical?" Howard questioned defensively. "How so?"
"You never face your issues, do you, Howard? If you don't want to deal with something, you just conveniently shove it under a rug! How…how Freudian!"
"Now wait just one darn-tootin' minute," Howard objected. "Technically, it's not 'Freudian…'" and he launched into a psychiatric evaluation of his own behavior.
Lizzie was only vaguely aware of the argument in the foyer as she worked her video game controller from the living room couch, but it made her uneasy. Apparently it made her mother uneasy as well, for Jo came from the kitchen to stand with Howard and Roberta in the foyer and after a few more frenzied whispers, she was offering the Gordons her assurance that it was "no big deal" and that the issue had probably been completely forgotten anyway. Lizzie could not tell what they were talking about, but she knew something was wrong.