“Ah! There you are,” Gramps said, smiling in pleasure as he came out of his chair and stepped away from the dining table.
He was dressed in tailored slacks of dark cotton, a tan button-down shirt, a thin s***h for a scarlet red tie, with a dark sport coat of the same material as the slacks. On his feet were a pair of black loafers with a shine that would reflect candlelight from five hundred yards away. Tanned, wearing reading glasses sitting halfway down on his nose, his thick white hair pulled back and trim, the old man looked tight. Trim. Full of mischief.
He came up to me and gave me a firm grandfatherly hug and then turned and embraced Debra, kissing her on her cheek. His eyes were dancing with merriment as he stepped back and motioned with a hand to sit down with him at the table.
