“Milly asked, offering him a plate that held a couple of cheese slices, some apple wedges and a few crackers. Jeremy looked up in surprise. He hadn’t heard Milly come outside, but he was happy to accept her offer of food. “I’m always up for a snack,” he said, accepting the plate and placing it on the porch beside him. “My mom says I have a hollow leg.” “My mother used to say that too,” Milly chuckled. “You have to wonder where that expression came from.” She turned and walked to the wicker rocki...ng chair beside the front door and straightened the flowery cushion before she lowered herself down. Milly was some kind of relative—his grandfather’s cousin or second cousin, or something like that. He remembered his mother explaining it all when they were on the train coming to Toronto. “Was she at the funeral?” he had asked. “No. She sent a card,” his mother said, and Jeremy had nodded and gone back to staring at the river and the trees and the telephone poles that flashed by his window.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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