Ethan Gray had never met Blanche’s uncle, but from the fragments of stories the little girl shared, a picture was beginning to emerge: a man who sought solace in the "stinky water" a bit too often.
He recalled how sensitive Blanche was to the scent of alcohol. On his first night, when he’d returned with the faint aroma of a single beer on his breath, she had practically bolted from the room. Now, hearing her talk about her uncle’s "sprite-addled" outbursts, Ethan felt a surge of protective instinct.
"Does he ever... does he ever hit you when he’s like that?" Ethan asked, his voice low and careful.
Blanche’s reaction was immediate and fierce. She stood up on her small wooden stool, puffing out her chest. "Hit me? Balderdash! I’m the meanest thing in the Winding Lanes!"
To prove her poin
