His hand came up, palm out. “No need, Lainey. He thinks a great deal of you.”
My face was burning by this time. I imagined it had to be beet red by now. “I know he does. He"s pretty special to me, too.” Uncle Ed and I came to know each other very well over the past two years I had lived in Montclair. I trusted him with secrets I shared with no one else. He was more of a friend than an uncle.
“What"s he doing these days? Enjoying his retirement, I would think.”
“You have no idea,” I said. “He"s a Mark Twain impressionist, and does shows on his own river boat.”
“Really! I"d love to see that.” Mr. Taylor"s eyes lit up. “My wife and I have been talking about taking a riverboat cruise. What"s the name of his boat?”
“The Miss Twila. Docks at Montclair. That"s where we live.”
The Miss Twila
