“Yes. You get a little short of breath just once—”
“Uncle Tony! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It was just a little episode of light-headedness.”
“Did you inform Mother?”
“Quinton. It was nothing. You’re not to breathe a word of this to Portia.”
I grunted as the elevator came to a smooth stop. He opened the door and stepped out, and I followed him down the hallway to the room I used when I came to visit.
When I found the opportunity, I’d talk to Bryan about Uncle Tony’s “little episode,” but this was definitely not something I would keep from my mother.
***
It didn’t take long for me to unpack and freshen up, but by the time I came down, Bryan had returned from the studio where he worked a few days a week as a consultant on the TV show CIA. He was in the dining room talking about the ko
