HEIRS AND HOUNDS, by Hal Charles
When Aunt Pris sent out invitations to a mid-December gala at Belle Reve, her estate, we all figured the gathering was holiday-related. Boy, were we wrong.
Our uncle, Jack, whom we called “Union Jack” because of his constant tales of his ex-pat life in Merrie Olde England for nearly half a century, was the first to arrive. After complaining about his long flight from across the pond, he wished the frail Aunt Pris a “Merry Christmas” and handed her a gold-wrapped package.
My husband and our three daughters—Karen, Katherine, and Kaitlin—arrived next with heart-felt hugs and presents meticulously wrapped in colorful ribbons and paper the night before. Gerry, Aunt Pris’ husband of over fifty years had passed a decade ago as had Jack’s mother. When Aunt P
