« I’m sorry… » I said slowly. « Did you know my dad from work? »
An older man stood there — maybe late 60s.
He nodded once. « I’ve known him for a long time, honey. I’m Frank. »
I searched his face, but nothing sparked.
« I don’t think we’ve met. »
« You weren’t supposed to, » he said, his voice low and rough.
That made me pause.
« I’ve known him for a long time, honey. »
« What do you mean? »
He stepped in, close enough that I caught the scent of engine grease and peppermint. He glanced around the room — once, twice — and then leaned in.
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