We look to Aunt Lily. Her eyes are drawn to the cutout window in the treehouse. “Did he look cold?” My mom glares. “No. Your husband wasn’t even carrying blankets. He just wanted to worm his way up here like he always does.” Truth: 9 times out of 10, Uncle Loren will find a way to either pull Lily away or become a part of the PJ party. He might also be the biggest gossip queen of us all, so I don’t even mind the addition. “Maybe he misses me,” Lily says pensively, tugging her long gray tee over her gangly knees. “You saw him five minutes ago,” my mom retorts like her younger sister is losing
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