grey sweater, and sneakers and looked rather young
and athletic. There was a warmth in his smile that
went beyond mere cordiality, I thought. Despite
Cary's discomfort, I didn't mind Adam's father. "It's nice to run into you again," I said. "At least you're not knocking me over this
time," he kidded. I couldn't help blushing. "Hello,
Cary."
"Hello," Cary answered, rather sulkily I
thought. "How's your father doing? I was sorry to hear
about his illness," Mr. Jackson said.
"He's home," Cary replied and leaned over to
get some cans of soup.
"That's good. Give him my regards." Mr.
Jackson looked at me again. "Cary's father and I used
to go fishing together once in a while. He ever tell you
about that marlin we caught, Cary?"
"No sir, he didn't," Cary said. "We have to move along. My mother needs these things," Cary
added gruffly.
"Oh sure. Well, don't forget to give him my
best, and if he needs help with anything . ."
"Okay," Cary said.
Mr. Jackson winked at me.
"I bet if you play the fiddle for him, he'll feel a
lot better a lot faster," he said.
"Thank you."
I smiled and we walked past him. When I
turned back, he was still looking our way.
"Don't look back at him. He's just flirting with
you," Cary muttered.
"What?"
"Everyone knows T. J. Jackson's reputation