Chapter 11Henley paused in the bedroom doorway and looked in at his uncle, who was sitting at the window. “Uncle Teddy?” He hadn’t called him that in years. “Can I come in?”
Ted sat in his wheelchair with his hands on his blanketed lap, apparently watching the neighbor’s children having a snowball fight in their backyard. His combed white hair caught the soft afternoon light. He didn’t react to his voice.
“I just wanted to say goodbye.” Henley stepped into the room, trying to ignore the orthopedic bed, the scent in the air—sweet sweat mixed in with the smell of chicken soup or whatever Ted had eaten last. He gently set the box he’d carried in down on the dresser. “I’m going to spend a few weeks in Montreal,” he said, in a thin voice. “Going to look for an apartment there and check out my
