Uncle Garrison clears his throat. “Not that this isn’t the wildest and weirdest thing I’ve been a part of all day—Willow and I have no stake in this. We’re related to the Hale side, not the Calloways. But I figured you invited us here as the cool aunt and uncle, and seeing as how we’re the youngest and understand what the geriatrics might not—” Dad interjects, “I wish we all had glaucoma so we could unsee the ugly blob on your neck.” It’s a Batman tattoo. Uncle Garrison lets out a dry laugh.
