“Now, now. How many times have I told you to call me Marian? Merry Christmas, Benjamin, Tyrell.”
“Hi, Mrs. Wilson. How have you been? Looks like we’re going to have a white Christmas,” I babbled, barely giving her time to answer. “Well, it was nice seeing you, but we have to get going. Uncle Dave’s waiting for us.”
“Oh? I didn’t know you had an uncle.”
“Sure.” Nosy biddy. As if it was any of her business.
“And he’s visiting?” She craned her head, looking around. “Is he here?”
Dad stepped on my toe, hard. “He wasn’t feeling well enough to chance coming out in this weather.”
I gave a very wet, very explosive sneeze, hoping it didn’t come across as phony as it was. “Sorry,” I muttered against my palm, and fumbled in my pocket for a handkerchief. “Uh, Dad?”
“Did you forget your handkerc
