He followed her to the kitchen. “That’s mean, Sam.”

“Are you being mean to your father again?” Celia asked.

“Believe me, he deserves it. Oh, jeez, is that roast beef?”

“Sure is. Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I didn’t even realize it until right this very minute.” She peeked into a pot and groaned. “Mashed potatoes? God, my ass is growing just smelling it.”

“Now you stop that,” Celia said as she served the meal. “You have a lovely figure that I’d kill for. How was your day?”

“The usual chaos.”

“Nothing special?” Skip asked. “Nothing different?” Sam pretended to give that some significant thought. “Not really. Freddie and I are working the case, pulling the threads. Got a couple of good angles to pursue.”

“What are they doing about Johnson?” Skip asked.

Hanging on their every word, Celia fed him and herself with a practiced hand.

“I was ordered to ‘lay low’ until I testify on Tuesday.”

“To which you said…?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine with it. I have to go to Chicago tomorrow, I’m taking most of Sunday off, and have the funeral on Monday. I should be fine.”

“Should be isn’t good enough.” He swallowed, cleared his throat and turned his steely blue eyes on his daughter. “Anything else happen at your meeting with Farnsworth?”

Deciding she had tortured him long enough, she said, “Oh, you mean about the promotion?”

He growled.

“I got it.” She took another bite of mashed potatoes and tried not to think about the calories. “You can soon call me Lieutenant, Chief.”

“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, indeed.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, Sam!” Celia jumped up to hug and kiss her. “That’s just wonderful, isn’t it, Skip?”

He never took his eyes off his daughter. “It sure is. Come give your old man a hug.”

Pained that he’d had to ask and embarrassed by Celia’s effusiveness, Sam got up and did her best to work around the chair. With her lips close to his ear, she whispered, “Thank you.”

“For?”

Sam pulled back to smile at him. “Love you.”

“When you’re not being mean to me, I love you, too.”

Two hours later, Sam was laboring her way through the report of the day’s activities on her laptop when Celia knocked on the door.

“Sorry to interrupt your work, but I thought you might enjoy some warm apple pie. It’s so darned cold out.”

Sam moaned. “Tell me it’s fat free, calorie free and can’t find an ass with a roadmap.”

Chuckling, Celia handed her the plate. “All of the above. I swear.”

“If the nursing gig doesn’t pan out, you might consider a life of crime. You’re a convincing liar.”

“You’ve made your father very proud tonight, Sam. He’s always proud of you, but he wanted this promotion for you. More, I think, than you wanted it for yourself.”