I spent the rest of the afternoon on my cellphone, taking a break from packing up my uncle’s belongings. My first call was to Denice, my oldest sister, thirty-eight, and the spitting of image of me: blond hair and blue eyes. She lived in Tampa with three boys, a broker for a husband (Neil Taylor), a maid named Lucia, and an in-ground pool. Rumor had it that an alligator had found its way into her backyard and had broken through the pool’s screened-in porch. Lucia found the gator lounging in the pool. I didn’t know if the tale was true or not, but thought it creative nonetheless.
Denice answered my call on the first ring. “Little brother, how’s Channing this time of year?”
“Cold and snowy. I kind of like it. I’m sure it’s eighty degrees where you’re at, right?”
“Ninety-two. Uncommon for
