- 9 -
When I ascended the stairway from my basement lair the next morning, Mom and Dad were having what I’d define as an anxious discussion.
“So when’s your sister coming?” Dad said.
Aunt Lindsey was coming? I loved Aunt Lin, as I called her. Aunt Lin was fifteen years younger than Mom, and only seven years older than me—or maybe eight. Anyway, she was more like a sister than an aunt to me.
“A week from Monday,” Mom said. “I have to pick her up at the airport—that is if her flight actually arrives—at 1:30.”
“And how long…”
“Who knows?” Mom said. “You know Lindsey.”
“I suspect she’s out of money,” Dad said with a sigh.
“In between jobs,” she said.
“And probably friends to sponge off of,” he said.
“GARY! Truth be told, she’s never really found her niche. She does all the Far East h
