Frank Harada answered the door.
“Is it you are looking for my son?” he asked in a thick Québécois accent that she knew he only affected when he was being too pleased with himself. “Or is it perhaps his clothes you are seeking?” he shot a wicked grin at her before squatting down to greet Baxter.
Macy leaned her forehead against the doorjamb and sighed, “Either one would be a help, Mr. Harada.”
“How about I lead you to both? He’s here and he’s not running around n***d. Eva would never tolerate such a thing unless it was us doing it.”
Macy’s cheeks flamed hotter at the image. The tiny novelist and the tall man who managed her business, running around the house n***d together. Parents weren’t supposed do such things.
He waved both her and Baxter in. But after he closed the door he pulled
