“They were older than I expected. Closer to eighty than seventy. Not far from feeble. And they were by no means ogres. Of course, that was easy for me to say. They were Lyle Hudnut’s parents, not my own. Herb Hudnut was a scrawny, defeated little man with a chicken neck, big ears that stuck straight out, and a full head of white hair that was combed flat, except for a schoolboy cowlick. He smelled of Vitalis. He had a striped knit shirt on over a white T-shirt—not a look I recommend—blue polyest...er slacks, and heavy black Florsheim wing-tips with white support hose. He was very fidgety. Kept moistening his lips and reaching nervously for the pocket of his shirt, as if he had something valuable in there and he wanted to make sure it was still there. Near as I could tell he had nothing in there. He had an old, faded tattoo on the back of his left forearm. His hands shook. It was Aileen who Lyle took after the most. She was big. and she was hefty. Must have outweighed Herb by fifty pounds.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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