More than before, he slurred his words.
“I’m the Hale,” he went on. “Or so they tell me. The great hope—the heir apparent. The—”
“I’m sorry, young man, but I’m going to have to disagree with that.”
An older man was climbing onto the stage, stepping into the light. He didn’t look like Hale or his father. The overcoat was a little too out of date. He leaned too heavily on his cane, as if it weren’t a mere walking stick but a crutch with actual purpose. But when he spoke, there was no mistaking he was an important man, a formidable figure.
A member of the family.
“Hello, Junior,” he said to Hale’s father. “Don’t you have a hug for your favorite uncle?”
Chapter 31
The man on the stage had wild white hair and wore a secondhand suit. The cane was rough and wooden, and his tie hadn’t been in style for thirty years. He was a relic. A drifter. But there was something about him—a power so strong and ancient that it was almost like the man had been forged out of cast iron. He was an unmovable force, and it would take more than a scene to make him leave.
“Well, I was told this was where the party was!” he yelled at the crowd and continued across the stage—past Hale and his father, to the portrait of the woman of the hour.
Even knowing what she knew, Kat had a hard time seeing her uncle in the man at the front of the room. Everything was different. He leaned heavily on his cane and took slow, careful steps until he finally reached the portrait. Then he bent down and brushed a kiss across Hale’s grandmother’s painted cheek.
“I told you I’d come home, Hazel,” he told the painting. “I’m just a little late.”
He reached up as if to trace a finger against the face on the portrait, but Hale’s father caught his hand.
“Don’t touch that,” Senior spat.
“Well, it doesn’t compare to the original, but it will do.”
“You knew her?” Hale’s father asked.
Eddie smiled. “Of course I knew her. She was married to my brother.”
“He’s gonna blow it,” Kat said.
“He’s fine,” Gabrielle assured her.
“He’s not ready,” Kat said.
“He was born ready,” Gabrielle retorted.
“He’s not—”
On the stage, Hale’s father said, “But that would make you…”
“Junior,” Eddie said with a scowl, “you got old.”
“It’s Senior now,” Hale’s father spat. “Now I demand to know the meaning of this! My uncle Reginald is dead, and you’re nothing but an imposter. Get out of my building.”
“Actually, I’m not an imposter.” A thought seemed to occur to Uncle Eddie. “Which, I believe, makes this my building.” He gave a hearty laugh.
“I don’t believe it,” Senior said. “It can’t be. You cannot be—”
“Reginald?” Marianne’s voice was shaking. “Reginald, is that you?”
She looked beautiful, Kat couldn’t help but think. She wore a long black gown, and her gray hair was piled elegantly onto the top of her head. But it wasn’t just her clothing that had changed. There was a confidence, a grace about her as she said, “Reginald, it is you.”
The words were breathless, hopeful. She didn’t look like someone who had a seen a ghost. She sounded like someone lost in a dream.
“Hello, Marianne.” Eddie lingered on the word, then kissed her cheek. “You’re looking well, my dear.”