The following Saturday afternoon, Dan found himself once more sitting outside the little stucco house in Brandon. He couldn’t help but think back to the first time he had sat here in this very car, waiting to go inside, anxious about what lay before him, unknown. It hadn’t seemed all that long ago—and really, it wasn’t—and he smiled at the memory of Adam, answering the door in his little black dress, pearls, and Bette Davis eyes. He realized all at once that Adam had probably been as nervous about their initial meeting as Dan was, and the drag was simply a way to become someone else, to take the pressure off.
He hadn’t called Sullivan in advance, fearing that the man would put him off if he told him what he wanted. On the seat beside Dan was a Dutch oven filled with his mother’s red sauce
