When I took a wary peek from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, Cash was no longer around. In The Six Million Dollar Man slow motion, I ambled to the kitchen. Delectable breakfast smells like pancakes and bacon being kept warm in the oven, made my mouth water. Coffee had just been brewed while a pot of hot cocoa sat on a buttercup-yellow retro stove.
The Six Million Dollar ManQuincy, sipping from a Superman mug, was seated on his usual banquette spot in a breakfast area that could easily accommodate eight. On a reclaimed pine table sat three mason jars filled with preserves and a blueberry muffin the size of a softball. Absently, I glanced into the adjoining guest dining room and noticed Mom and Cash chatting with the Duggans. Given the smiles and laughter, they were sharing humorous ane
