“That’s the Cushman house,” he said, looking at us in the rearview mirror. “Would you be family visiting?”
“No, we are not family,” Grandfather replied, looking past Caleb to the road ahead. I was sure Grandfather was trying to get Caleb to turn his head back to his driving task. “We are here on business. You are familiar with the Cushmans?”
“Heck yes,” Caleb answered looking at the road and turning his head back to us. “I drove their kid home from the train station many times when he was in school in New York.”
“I take it you refer to Joshua? A nice boy, yes?” Grandfather probed.
Caleb’s voice rose. “Well, I’m not about to take away any man’s opinion, but that ain’t mine. Never knew how he’d be when he got into my cab. Sometimes he wouldn’t say a word, and I’d look at him in the mirro
