“I’d laugh at that if you hadn’t called my entire sex ‘wimpy.’ But it does say something about the preferences of your father.”
Jack laughed. “You win. No, I didn’t know. Roy and I weren’t chummy. No fishing trips together. And no, I don’t remember ever having met your father. What did Flynn say about him?”
“That he was charming. He said my dad made people laugh, cheered them up.”
“Like you.”
“Thank you.” She put two bags full of yellow onions in the cart. “So what do we do next?”
“You and Sara stay home while I visit Arthur Niederman.”
“You plan to visit himalone? Withoutus?”
“I take it you don’t approve of that idea. How about if you and I visit Mr. Niederman while Sara stays home and writes?” He was putting tomatoes on vines in a bag.
“Aunt Sara won’t like that.”
“Then I take it that you don’t want to protect her? You think she can stand up to whatever Flynn dishes out if he finds out we aren’t quitting this case?”
The way he put it, it was impossible not to agree with him. And besides, he knew Sara much better than she did. She decided to change the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask what you thought of Alastair Stewart when you were growing up.”
Jack looked like he was about to make a joke but didn’t. “I was in awe of him. Rich, blond, very tall, great athlete, four-point-oh average. When I was a kid, I wanted to dye my hair because everyone kept saying I looked like Roy.”
“And Cal.”
Jack picked up lemons and put them in the bag Kate held open. “Yeah, and Granddad.”
“So what’s your grandmother Donna like?”
Jack shook his head. “Grans is the opposite of Sara in every way.”
“Except in her love of Wyatt men.”
“No.” Jack held up a big avocado. “Not really. Roy was her favorite. Granddad and I were a bit of a nuisance to her.”
“The baddest boys get loved,” she murmured. “Anyway, back to Alastair.”
“Again.” Jack headed toward the big glass seafood case, Kate close behind him.
“Do you think Cheryl would have been interested in Alastair?”
“Maybe. I was eleven; Stewart was a senior. We didn’t exactly share lunches. But my guess is that all females like him. He called dibs on you ten minutes after you arrived and you said yes, yes, yes.”
She ignored his statement. “You knew Cheryl. Who was her type? What fish do you want?”
“Sara likes the red snapper. Get whatever you want.”
“Right. Real men eat whatever is put in front of them.”
“Now who’s being a Mean Girl?”
“Me!”
She spoke with so much delight that Jack laughed as he waited for her to give the order to the fishmonger.
They got shrimp and scallops as well as the fish, then started going up and down the aisles. Jack vetoed whole wheat pasta, calling it “extruded tile grout.”
They were at the canned goods before he answered her question. “I don’t know what kind of man Cheryl liked. I sure as hell wanted to be whatever it was. One day I showed up wearing one of Roy’s leather motorcycle jackets and she thought it was funny.”
