She leaned back on the chair, hands folded, coffee cup drained, and she felt that her senses had been somehow sharpened to understand what Dylan's father was doing.
"This is a test, right?" she asked.
He didn't answer. Just glanced at her from about the rim of his spectacles and sipped from the cup in his hand. The man never seemed to ever run out of lemons for making lemonade.
Clara ventured with her discovery, "This isn't really about me per se, right? This is about you. This... This is some kind of an evaluation. Of yourself. You're trying to make us play god and human at the same time. So you're judging yourself based on whether you have done well, a good job, in bringing up Dylan."
It was his turn to lean against the chair. It squeaked in protest. And Clara noted that it was the f
