Page 110 of The Grumpy Defenseman
“He would have made me work for it.”
“Oh, he would have made you justify it over three dinners and a ride to the hardware store.” She set the cup down. “But he would have agreed.”
That was as close as Kathleen McKinney came to benediction.
I took it.
She studied me for a second longer. Then her eyes did the small thing they did when she was about to ask something she already knew.
“There’s someone.”
I looked at my plate. “Mom.”
“Your face told me. I didn’t need the contract.”
“Lena called you.”
“Lena called me at four in the morning the night you drove up to her house. She didn’t have to tell me why. I couldhear your truck in the background, and I have been your mother for thirty-three years.”
I shook my head. Could not help the corner of my mouth from lifting.
“Her name is Sam.”
“Short for?”
“Samantha.”
“Photographer. Team photographer, yes?”
“How do you know that?”
“I read your press. Don’t look at me like that. I’m retiring in eleven months. I have time.”
“You’re not retired yet.”
“I said in eleven months.” She pointed at me with her spoon. “Do not get ahead of the paperwork.”
I almost laughed then.
Actually almost.
She watched me almost laugh, and something in her face softened about three degrees, which on Kathleen was a standing ovation.
“Good,” she said. “She’s good for you if she’s getting that out of your face.”
“She’s difficult.”
“Evan Robert, every woman your father and I raised you to respect is difficult. That’s the job description.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sipped her coffee. Set it down. Looked at me the way she looked at patients who thought they were fine and were not.
“You know Dr. Mehta in cardiology asks about you every time I’m on her unit.”
“Mom.”
“I just said she asks.”
