‘‘Damn!’’ I murmured. ‘‘The old goat is human.’’
Tinnie wasn’t his problem. He sees her all the time. And he knows Alyx. He’s never anything but polite when she’s around. But the other two . . .
He pulled it together before he turned into a creepy old man. ‘‘Good afternoon, Miss Tate. Miss Weider. Ladies. Would you care for something sweet?’’
They all said no, they were watching their figures. And doing a fine job, I have to report. I stayed busy helping them do that. As did Dean. His eyes all but bugged out when the ladies started getting back into their cold-weather duds.
3
Back from the front door, I asked, ‘‘What happened to you, Dean? You looked like you got a sudden case of young man’s fancy.’’
‘‘The one with the marvelous chestnut hair.’’
‘‘Bobbi.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Her name is Bobbi. Bobbi Wilt. Tasty, huh?’’
He showed me a scowl but it wasn’t his best. ‘‘It’s remarkable how much she resembles someone I used to know.’’
Someone who’d had a huge impact. Dean was so distracted he was ready to walk into walls.
He has worked for me since I bought the house. In the beginning he lived with one of his brigade of homely nieces. Then it just made sense for him to move into one of the extra rooms upstairs. That kept him from bringing the nieces round, trying to fix them up. He never said much about his olden days. He was in the Cantard the same time as my grandfather. They never met. He knew folks on my mother’s side.
None of which matters now. Dean cooks for me and keeps house. And works hard at filling in for my judgmental mom.
Dean shook like a big old dog that just ambled in out of the rain. ‘‘I guess when you’re my age, everybody looks like somebody you’ve already met.’’
‘‘Who does she remind you of?’’