16 - Maeve
I went back through the passage in the rushes. To my surprise, Stanley was pacing the backyard, his long legs brushing the tufts of weeds, collecting sticky green seeds that would later sprout into more weeds. Surprisingly, the big cousin was well dressed, meaning, wearing casual summer clothes: light-toned chino pants now decorated with seeds, inflamed by a target-red polo shirt, and, the cherry on the Sunday, dark glasses.
My, my, did he look like a blond agent 007! Except his expression didn’t match, harried, his eyes darting left and right, desperately searching for something.
“Hi,” I said to his wide back.
He whipped around, arms spread out. When his eyes focused on me, all the strain leached from his traits.
“Oh, hi, Maeve,” he said, genially. “You look way better tha
