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lay open on the rumpled bed, and I couldn’t help noticing the brightly colored clothes inside. All neatly folded with the price tags still attached.
    Giving up my house search, I thought it might be time to join my family out on the front lawn, but just as that damn cuckoo chirped its time, a shadow moved on the creamy walls in the hallway. The combination of the two sent a shock wave through my body and I grabbed onto the wooden railing to make a speedy retreat, but then thought better of it. I was teetering on the edge, and if I took even one step forward I would end up on the landing in a heap of splintered bones.
    “You gotta be my little cousin Mia,” a deep male voice bellowed as the shadow turned into a rather short, slim, fifty-something man wearing a tailored brown suit, a dark gold shirt, and spit-shined brown shoes. He was hand combing his hair back from his face, wiped his face with a white hanky, shoved it into his pants pocket while straightening his suit coat as if he had just put it on, his shoulders adjusting to the confines of the jacket in typical male fashion. “I’d recognize you anywhere. Had your picture up on the wall. Of course, you was younger in the picture, but you still got them pretty almond eyes.” He stopped. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare ya. I was out on the balcony admiring all them olive trees. This place is bigger than I remember, and them trees all got taller.”
    He came in close to give me a kiss. I let him. He kissed both my cheeks and I instantly knew I was face to face with the man of the hour. He smelled clean, with the hint of red wine on his breath.
    “Cousin Dickey,” I said, throwing him a smile. After all, I didn’t want to seem inhospitable. There was no telling what he would do if I was disrespectful. Respect was the linchpin in a family like this. If you crossed that line, things could get ugly real fast.
    “In the flesh.” He gave me a toothy grin, and I could feel the tension building between my shoulders.
    I’d never met someone who seemed so proud to be who they were. He oozed self-confidence, and even though he must have weighed less than my mom, was no more than five-foot-four inches tall, had a ravaged face, gray silky hair combed straight back with the help of some kind of oil — olive oil, no doubt — and sported a classic Roman nose. The man had an infectious smile, and piercing blue eyes.
    I now realized that it was Pinot Noir that permeated the air. Releasing my death grip on the railing, I took a step toward him.
    “It’s been a long time,” I said, wishing the time was even longer, like perhaps not in this lifetime.
    “Eight years, two months, three days, and seven hours, but hey, who’s counting.”
    Then he laughed, a great big deep laugh, and he tapped my arm like I was supposed to laugh with him.
    I knew enough about my family to join in when one of these aging Made Men thought something was funny. “You’ve got me there,” I answered, chuckling, nodding my head, and so wishing I was out on the front lawn with the rest of my family, taking accordion lessons from Maryann. For the first time ever, while I stood a little too close to Dickey, accordion lessons didn’t seem like such a bad idea, and even though he seemed genuine enough, I couldn’t get murderer out of my head.
    Had he gotten away with it, or was he truly innocent? I couldn’t decide.
    “It’s nice to see you again,” I said, but it was an absolute lie and I hoped it came out as a genuine statement.
    The moment was awkward as I waited for his response. I didn’t quite know what to say to someone who’d just been released from a state prison. Usually, when I’d meet up with one of my recovering uncles or cousins, they’d have been out for a while and somewhat acclimated to their freedom. But this guy was fresh from the pen and the scars weren’t quite healed. Small talk felt weird. I mean, asking him what he’d been up to or discussing the weather didn’t quite