“I understand,” she said, without preamble or apology, “you're something of an expert on genetics.”
Gray looked up.“I have a master's degree in animal genetics.I have no idea if that makes me an expert.”
“You are compared to folks around here,” she replied tartly.“I have a question about dogs.”
He glanced at the pinochle table.Walter was glaring at Ruth’s back as if he was trying to drill a hole in it with his laser glare.
“Dogs aren’t my specialty, but I might be able to answer a general question about them,” Gray said cautiously.
“My Mabel had a litter last spring.Six puppies.Five look just like her.Brown and white, classic Springer spaniel.But the sixth one is black.Not a speck of white on him.”
“Did Mabel have access to any other male dogs during her heat cycle?”
Ruth drew herself up to her full height and declared indignantly.“Mabel is alady.”
The black puppy suggested otherwise but far be it from him to slut-shame Mabel.He said instead, “It's possible for a litter to have multiple sires if the female mated more than once.It's called heteropaternal superfecundation.”
Ruth stared at him.“Mabel,” she repeated distinctly, “is a dog of impeccable character.”
“I don't doubt her character,” Gray said.“But biologically speaking ...”
“Can it skip a generation?”Walter interrupted.“The black color.Can it skip a generation and pop up in a puppy even if neither parent is black?”
“Yes,” Gray said.“Recessive genes can remain unexpressed for multiple generations and then pop up ...”
“HA!”Ruth pointed at Walter.“Itoldyou it wasn't the Andersons' black Lab.”
“Leave the Andersons out of this,” Walter snapped.
Gray prudently refrained from pointing out that almost without exception, black was a dominant color gene, Angus cattle being a notable exception.
Walter threw up his big, callused hands.“I'm just saying that black puppy was big for a Springer spaniel.Chunky like a Lab.”
“Walter Meeks, if you say one more word about that dog havingdespoiledmy sweet Mabel ...”
“Well, somebodydespoiledyour precious dog,” Walter snapped.“She didn't have six puppies all by herself.”
Gray choked on his coffee, did his best to conceal his coughing, and went back to his textbook.
He made it through approximately four sentences before Irma Brown appeared at his elbow with a coffee pot and an obvious agenda.
“My grandchildren,” she announced, topping off his cup without asking.“My daughter has brown eyes, my son-in-law has brown eyes, but my granddaughter came out with blue eyes as clear as a summer sky.My son-in-law's mother is implying things.”
Gray set down his highlighter.“Brown-eyed parents can absolutely have a blue-eyed child.Brown is a dominant gene, but both parents can carry the recessive allele for blue eyes without expressing it themselves.If each parent passes on the recessive allele, the child gets blue eyes.”
Irma looked extremely relieved.“So it's science.”
“Pure Mendelian genetics.”
“Could you write that down?In case I need to show it to someone?And be sure to include what you just said—the Mendelson genetics part.”
Mendelian, he corrected her silently.And by “someone” Irma obviously meant the son-in-law's mother.Gray accepted the notepad she held out and wrote a brief, scientifically accurate explanation of dominant and recessive inheritance, along with a simple four-square genetic chart with big B’s standing for brown eyes and little b’s standing for blue eyes.At the end of his explanation, he signed his name, He handed the notepad back.
“Thank you.”Irma tucked it into her apron pocket with a satisfied pat.“More coffee?”
“Please.”
He lasted until ten forty-five before the next question arrived.This one came from a gray-haired man he didn't recognize.“Heard you're the one to ask about breeding,” the man said, sliding into the seat across from Gray without invitation.
