Fred Hill stepped out of his car and breathed deeply. No matter where he’d been, coming here—to the Wisconsin Dells Retreat Center—always felt like arriving home.
“Hello, my boy.”
“Uncle Bill!” Fred ran forward and hugged his uncle. “How are you?”
“Good, good.” Bill pulled a pipe from his mouth and blew out a smoke ring. “Have you seen my blog recently?”
“No, you’ll have to show me. Is anyone else here yet?”
“Edward, Golda, Larry, Cyril and Gerald arrived a few days ago. Gary hasn’t come yet. I hope he can make it,”