J.L. smiled. Much as he protested, he liked being fussed over. "Of course, I'll be nice. When am I not nice? I just said those things about him because ... well, I wanted you to be wary."
"Don't worry about Ernie. He's a dear. And, please, no economics lectures. That business about thrift being a menace to prosperity may have been a new idea when you were young, but now every kid in school is taught it. So spare us. It makes you sound like an old fuddy duddy."
Fuddy duddy? J.L. was about to make a stunning rejoinder when he heard the whirring of helicopter rotors overhead.
"There he is." Glory said, excitedly, "Let him in."
"Where are you running?" he asked, surprised. She was as fully dressed as she was likely to be.
"You know I can't be here when he comes in," she said.
"Can't be here? Where else should you be?" J.L. asked. The situation was getting out of hand.
"Strategy, my dear parent. I can't just be sitting here waiting when he walks in. He is supposed to be waiting for me ... with bated breath. It makes my entrance more effective. Ta ta for now." She was gone.
The prospect of dining at the same table with the young man was repellent enough. Now he would have to provide entertaining conversation until Glory chose to appear.
The door chimes sounded.