* * * *
We flew out of National the next morning, and as Tony said, Bryan was at LAX to pick us up.
“What the hell is he thinking, Bry?” Gregor demanded once we were in the car, unwittingly echoing Tony’s words regarding Bryan’s marriage.
Bryan shrugged. “It’s his choice.”
“What do you have to say about it?”
“Nothing. It’s his—”
“I know, his choice. Is he going senile?”
“No, he’s not. And if you say something like that to him, I swear to God, I’ll knock you down!” He drew in a deep breath. “Look, Cara Mia is a nice woman, and her daughter is a sweetheart. You’ll see.”
Gregor subsided, but I could hear his muttered, “I still think this is all kinds of wrong.”
I sighed. I should never have told Gregor Cara Mia’s age. He’d stared at me in shock for a moment, and then snarled, “Never mind his daughter—she’s young enough to be his granddaughter!”