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uncle didn’t seem to me that kind of person. But then again, beyond a few childhood memories, I really didn’t know Uncle Cy very well.
    I slept a fitful sleep and awoke the next morning to the sound of Mother tapping on the bedroom door. “Time to get up, Eve,” she called softly. “They’re starting to serve breakfast now.”
    Twenty minutes later, I found Mother and Daddy sipping coffee at one of the tables in the dining room. Daddy smiled at me. “Sleep well, darling?”
    â€œNot really.” I snapped open the linen napkin at my place and laid it across my lap.
    â€œWhat’s the matter? Too excited to sleep?”
    â€œNo.” Leaning forward, I shook my head and lowered my voice. “I found out something you’re not going to believe.”
    Mother settled her coffee cup in the saucer and looked at me warily. “What is it, Eve?”
    In my best conspiratorial whisper, I informed them, “Uncle Cy has a stepson and he lives here at the lodge.” I topped off my announcement with a nod.
    Mother and Daddy glanced at each other. Daddy said, “Do you mean the boy Jones?”
    I leaned back in the chair, dumbfounded. This was not the reaction I had expected. “You know about him?”
    â€œWell,” Daddy said, “we don’t really know anything about him, but I remember hearing him mentioned at the wedding. He’s Cora’s son.”
    â€œThat’s right. So how come no one ever told me?”
    Daddy’s brow went up as he shrugged. “I suppose we thought you knew.”
    â€œWell, I didn’t.”
    Mother poured herself more coffee from the pot on the table. “We’re sorry, honey. We weren’t trying to keep any secrets from you. It’s just that we haven’t been in touch with Daddy’s side of the family very much. Not like we should have been these past few years.”
    I looked from Mother to Daddy and back again. “Then why are we here?”
    Daddy frowned at that. He picked up his spoon and began stirring imaginary sugar in his coffee. “All I can tell you,” he said, “is what you already know. Your Uncle Cy was good enough to help out—temporarily—until things get better for us. Now the honest truth is, it seems like Cyrus, Luther, and I have been fighting about one thing or another since the day we were born. Maybe that’s just the way it is among brothers sometimes. I don’t know. But maybe toothis is a chance for us to mend some fences. Heaven knows if that happens, our parents would die from the shock of it, if they hadn’t passed on already. But I’m at least willing to give it a try.”
    â€œBut I just don’t understand it, Daddy,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re the best man I know. You’re good to everyone. How could you and Uncle Cy ever argue about anything?”
    â€œWell, darling,” Daddy said, putting down the spoon and patting my hand, “no one’s perfect. Not even your old man.”
    â€œMaybe not, Daddy, but you’re as close to perfect as anyone I know.”
    While Daddy and I shared a smile, Mother said, “So how did you happen to find out about Jones, Eve?”
    My smile slipped away as I turned to Mother. “Last night I decided to look around the lodge, and I just ran into him.” Quite literally, I thought, but I wasn’t about to admit to Mother and Daddy that I was dancing with an imaginary lover in the ballroom.
    At that moment a young woman showed up at our table with an icy pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice. She bade us good morning and chatted amiably as she poured us each a glass. I took a long swallow; it tasted heavenly, so much better than the canned orange juice the milkman brought to our door in St. Paul.
    â€œWill I be waitressing here like she is?” I asked after she left.
    â€œYou might,” Mother said, “if they need someone to