"Dad, you know Dean's parents, right?" Kota asked mid-way through dinner that evening.
Dillon knew of Dean's parents. They had been introduced once, and they acknowledged each other at various school functions. He owned a car dealership in town, and she had some little shop downtown that appeared to cater to people equally as strange as she seemed to be, mostly younger, and sold crystals, incense, and handmade jewelry, mostly baubles.
Dillon believed they'd never had a real conversation. Dillon had driven Jaguars since his business became successful, and Dean's father only sold new Volkswagens and Subarus.
Dillon knew of Dean, of course, but couldn't picture what the boy looked like.
"Of course, sweetheart," he answered only a little fictitiously.
"We have a science project, and I was
