old property into a woodworking school.”
“Partly.”
“That is extremely sentimental.”
Dad looked at us.
“Your uncle is annoying.”
From the phone, Luis said, “I heard that.”
Three months later, he came to Carmona.
Dad spent the entire morning pretending he was not nervous.
He reorganized the workshop twice.
He changed shirts.
Mom changed it back.
“Blue looks better.”
“I’m seventy-two.”
“Blue still looks better.”
Luis arrived in an old silver station wagon carrying two camera cases and a small suitcase.
I knew him immediately.
He had Dad’s eyebrows.
That
