Dad rolled his eyes at Bollard for taking the head of the table, but it wouldn’t have mattered where Great-uncle Bollard sat. Dad’s dislike for Bollard was clear. Something happened between them before I was born. Tight-lipped, Dad never mentioned the incident and instead pretended Bollard didn’t exist until the next visit.
Mom placed her hand on Dad’s arm, politely warning him to behave. Great-uncle Bollard had done a lot for her, and Mom was grateful. He’d paid for all of Grandma’s treatments, doctor appointments, and for her night nurse. “Everything is all right, isn’t it, Uncle?”
There was a tightness at the table as we all held our breath waiting for his answer.
“Waverly has graduated.”
“Yes, last week,” Mom said with a smile as she put two and two together. “You received your invitation, I hope.”
He nodded again, and he pulled a small wrapped box from the inner pocket of his jacket. He placed the box on the table.
“Is this for me?” I asked, picking up the box and jiggling it. It sounded as if it had a necklace inside. “Is it a family heirloom?” I always loved my gifts from Bollard. Expensive dresses, cellphones, computers. Each year, I received something awesome from him so I knew my graduation gift would be amazing. It could be keys to a car or diamonds. I unwrapped the paper and popped open the lid. I sat and stared.
Dad leaned over the table to see the gift. “What?”
What exactly! For the box held the last thing I would’ve expected, and it made me question my uncle’s mental health.
I flipped the contents into my hand. Pieces of dirt and pebbles dropped onto the table. “Dirt?”
“No, America. The real America, the America I own and run.” Bollard’s voice was as cool as ice on a winter’s pond.
I stared at the mess of dirt in my hand. “I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.” Mom picked up the empty box and searched it herself. Finding it empty, she used the box to sweep the pieces of dirt off the table and away from our now cooling breakfasts. With a shrug, she handed the box back to me. “Are you okay, Uncle?”
“I’m here to make Waverly an offer now that she is of age.”
I ran my finger through the dirt. “An offer to farm?”
Uncle Bollard shook his head. “A position with my company and an opportunity to get to know me better.”
“Testing soil?” Befuddled, I took my finger and ran it through the dirt again, and I stopped. “Wait, is this contaminated?”
“Whoa. Wait.” Dad brushed the small remaining bits of dirt onto the floor. “A job offer? What are you talking about? Our kid just graduated high school. She still has college. We don’t even know where you work, the city or heck, even the country. I mean, what do you even do for a living?”
“America.”
“America isn’t a job.” Dad snickered.
“I am one of the most important men in the country.”
That was a bold statement. I couldn’t imagine Bill Gates or Warren Buffett saying that about themselves even if it was true.
Bollard continued, “I am a world leader. I have seen all this world and then some. I have traveled further than any of you can imagine, and I have accomplished things you have never even dreamed of.”
Mom and I stared at one another. I could tell we were both wondering the same thing. Had Bollard gotten sick like Grandma? Did he suffer from delusions of grandeur like his sister? A sign that perhaps this form of illness was genetic.
Dad drummed his fingers on the table. “Funny, you’d think we’d see your name on the news then.”
“Only if I want to be seen will I be,” Bollard told him. “I am not well known in your world.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, Uncle?” Mom asked.
“He’s fine,” Grandma said for him. Her ringing endorsement wasn’t helping.
“My niece knows so little about me or the rest of my family. I would like to remedy that.”
“Family. There are more in our family? Are you married? Do I have an aunt? Cousins?” I asked, for I had always longed for a larger family. My parents struggled for years to have a second child but no luck. As far as I knew, I didn’t even have third cousins twice removed.
“Do we, Uncle? You’ve never mentioned other family members,” Mom said. “You’ve never even mentioned your parents before. Grandma and Grandpa Tripps. God, I miss them.”
“What were they like?” I asked them all. “I wish I had met them.”
“So, you are interested,” Bollard stated.
“In the family—” Dad spit out.
“Yes, I am interested in the family and their health. Like Grandma, did she always have a high temperature? She gets so hot, often over 107 degrees. That’s enough to kill a person, but it’s her normal.”
Uncle Bollard paused before replying, “I recall she was always warm like many members in our family.”
“Wait, so more members of the family run hot? Who? My great-grandmother? Did she get sick too? What about your dad? Aunts and uncles?”
The corners of Great-uncle Bollard’s mouth turned upward in what was supposed to be a smile but wasn’t. He liked the question, liked that I asked it, but he didn’t answer right away. It was as if he was enjoying the moment too much, like we’d opened a secret door known only to him. “Mother always ran hot,” he said.
“He’s lying,” Grandma spoke up. “He’s from a different earth, and he owns a castle under the ground. The woman he speaks of wasn’t my mother, and he isn’t my brother. My brother was Michael, and he died in the war. You were Mary Laurel’s uncle. You should tell the truth, Bollie. Did the Prince of France ever find his cat?”
“Well, if he’s not your brother, perhaps we should go home,” Dad said under his breath, and both Mom and I gave him a disgusted look. This wasn’t the time or place.
“Oh, Mother.” Mom sighed and took Grandma’s
