An hour later, people start arriving and the main room fills up. I see my Uncle Howard and Aunt Ginger with their son, Jack, and daughter, Clair, come in with their kids. I’ve never seen much of them in either life I’ve lived because they hail from downstate. They’re a noisy bunch, too, which fits right in with this prattling Italian clan. I huddle off to one side, drinking my third cup of coffee, sans the whiskey spike, and look on as they reconnect with the family. When Aunt Ginger sees me, she waddles over. She’s a short plump woman with a round face.
“What are you doing hiding over here all by yourself?” she says, drawing me into a hug.
“Just trying to stay out of trouble,” I answer. “How are you, Aunt Ginger?”
“Oh, you know me, always in town for a good time,” she says, backing awa
