Chapter 94

I shuffled barefoot into the kitchen in an old pair of flannel PJ pants I’d borrowed from Bertie and a T-shirt from my high school drama club that I’d found in a drawer in my old room, my hair standing in clumps every which way. I was teased and mocked for sleeping late, mostly by George and Harry, who were bitter that they’d been awakened by my same two nephews less than two hours after Santa finally left. Dad has to be there for the initial unveiling. Uncle can always be shown later, thank God.