“Of course it is, sweetheart. I’ll support any activity you want to try.” I paused and thought about that for a moment. “I’m going to walk that last statement back. I know how you guys pride yourselves on trying to outdo one another in tricking me. I support any activity that’s within the structure of civilized society and doesn’t involve violence or any sort of crime.” I paused for a moment to be sure I had included outlawed behavior. “And nothing to do with human sacrifice.”
Fiona said, “Wow, Dad. It’s not like I’m one of the boys. They’re the ones who do all the stupid things.”
“I have to set the same guidelines for everyone. Even if you do have exceptional judgment.”
“Sister Lora also asked if you would be available to coach the team.”
I’d say this for her. Lora was a subtle one. Sister Sheilah, whom I’d done battle with my entire life, would’ve just told me to be the coach. I thought I liked Sheilah’s approach better.
All I could say was “Of course I’ll coach. It’ll be fun. We’ll work on your shots as soon as I’m back permanently.” Fiona giggled, and I knew I’d made the right choice.
A few seconds later, Mary Catherine came on the line. Her voice soothed me, set everything right. I smiled just hearing her warm greeting.
I said, “How’s it going? Everything good with the kids?”
“The kids have been great. I’ve been tough on them too.” Her voice sounded scratchy, like she was starting to get a cold.
I let out a laugh, but I didn’t say anything about what Trent had called her. I didn’t have to.
Mary Catherine laughed and said, “The kids have taken to calling me ‘the commandant.’”
“I’ll put a stop to that in a heartbeat.”
“I kinda like it. I’m not used to people being afraid of me. I don’t know what I did, but no one’s questioning my authority in any area. Usually one of the older kids will give me some pushback.”
“Fiona told me her news.”
“Somehow I don’t see her running up and down the basketball court. But I think it’ll be good for her.”
“Sounds like you’re against the idea.”
Mary Catherine hesitated. “No, it’s not that. I’m just tired. Bone weary.”
“I’m sorry. Can I help?”
“Not for this. I just need a little rest.”
We chatted for a few more minutes. I’ll admit it may be hokey, but just a call with my wife and kids puts me in a good mood first thing in the morning. That’s rare, especially when I’m traveling.
Chapter 45
I found Rose’s Down-Home Diner easily enough. It was less than half a mile from the Steinberg residence in Georgetown. A tiny place with a brick facade covered with creeping vines. Near the entrance, more than a dozen decorative ferns hung from the ceiling.
An older woman worked behind a bay window open to the kitchen. I wondered if it was Rose. A solitary waitress with two nose studs and a tattoo of a knife on her left hand made no effort to greet me. I took a far booth. Two other customers sat sipping coffee at a booth at the other end of the restaurant.
The daily menu was a card about six inches long by five inches wide. Today’s specials were an organic turkey and kale salad or a meat-free meatball over whole-grain pasta. How could they call this place a diner? Let alone a “down-home” diner?
I didn’t want to miss Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg, so I had come in at 11:30 for an early lunch. The waitress definitely didn’t fit the decor. She reeked of cigarettes when she came to the table and plopped down a glass of water. Her lank hair popped out of a black hairnet.
“Know what you want yet?” She didn’t have a “down-home” accent. She sounded like she was from Jersey City. She was starting to act like it too.
“Not quite yet,” I said.
Just then, Rhea Wellmy-Steinberg walked through the front door, carrying a copy of the Washington Post under her arm. The waitress at least smiled for Rhea. She was a regular, just like Officer Barrett had said.
My first look at Justice Steinberg’s wife got me thinking that Ellen Minshew’s description of her as a pretty face with big, fake boobies wasn’t particularly fair. Rhea was pretty, but there was no way to tell what was or was not real.
A slight streak of dark green on her cheek gave her a rough-and-tumble look, and below the goggles that hung loose on a strap around her neck, her smock was smeared with different colors like she was part of a kids’ finger-painting class.