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nodded again. “I know. He said you were coming.”
    â€œAnd you are . . . ?”
    â€œJones.”
    â€œJones?”
    â€œThat’s right. Jones.”
    My frown returned. I was trying not to stare at those strange red eyes, but the sight of them unnerved me. I slowly became aware that my thumbs were rubbing my index fingers like worry stones. “What’s your first name?” I asked.
    â€œThat is my first name. It was my mother’s maiden name.” He said this as he walked to the phonograph and lifted the needle from the record. The room was suddenly, jarringly quiet. He turned off the phonograph and put the lid down as though to tell me it was off-limits.
    But I wasn’t paying much attention. I was trying to connect the dots as I followed him to the stage. “Your mother?” I said. “Wait. You don’t mean Cora?”
    â€œYeah, I do. So?”
    â€œYou’re her son?”
    â€œThat’s right. What about it?”
    â€œHow come I never heard of you?”
    He lifted his shoulders, seemingly indifferent. “Beats me.”
    â€œYou weren’t here for the wedding. You weren’t here when she married Uncle Cy.”
    â€œThat’s right, I wasn’t. I was still in Chicago. I was staying with relatives because I had pneumonia.”
    â€œSo when did you come down?”
    â€œAbout a month later, I guess. I don’t really remember. Why?”
    â€œNo one ever mentioned you.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œWell, it’s a pretty big secret, isn’t it? I mean, you’ve been here five years and Uncle Cy never told us about you?”
    â€œIt’s no secret, just because you don’t mention someone.”
    I found myself momentarily speechless. My fingers were becoming sore from the rubbing. I willed myself to stop but wasn’t sure what to do with my hands. “Well, I mean, you’re family, right? Isn’t Uncle Cy your stepfather?”
    He shrugged. “Sure. If you want to put it that way.”
    â€œThen that means we’re step-cousins. Right?”
    â€œI suppose we are,” he said, though he sounded reluctant to agree.
    â€œAnd you live here? At the lodge?”
    â€œYeah.” He nodded toward Uncle Cy’s apartment behind the ballroom. “I live and work here. What do you expect?”
    â€œWell, I’m just wondering . . . what else don’t we know?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWhat else hasn’t Uncle Cy told us?”
    â€œBeats me. And if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you.”
    We locked eyes a moment, his growing narrow as I slowly moved my head from side to side. “Listen,” I said, “I’m sorryI was afraid at first. It’s just . . . well, I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.”
    â€œYeah? Especially not someone like me, huh?”
    â€œWell, I . . .”
    â€œYou’ve probably never even seen someone like me before, have you?”
    I hesitated only a moment before answering truthfully. “No, I haven’t. Not that I haven’t heard of people like you. That is, I know there are people like you, even though I’ve never seen one or seen a picture or even thought very much about them. I . . .” I stopped. This wasn’t going well. My nervousness was tying my tongue up in knots. I took a deep breath. “Look,” I said, “why don’t we start over? It’s very nice to meet you, Jones.”
    His features stiffened into a sneer. He took one step back. “Yeah,” he said. “I bet.”
    He turned and walked away without saying another word.

Chapter 5

    I crawled into bed that night a little less thrilled about our new home in Mercy, Ohio. Something nagged me about having a cousin these past five years that I knew nothing about. Was Uncle Cy ashamed of Jones because of his color—or should I say, his lack of color? My