If not his grandfather’s.

There were times when he resented it, times when he despaired of it, and times when it simply amused him.

He couldn’t decide which reaction he was having at the moment. All he could think was that Rhoda scared the hell out of him.

The best he could do was not think about it, or her, and settle in to polish his article on the meeting he’d attended the night before. A proposed stoplight at Market and Spruce, a debate over the budget and the need to repair the sidewalks on Main. And a rather spirited argument regarding the highly controversial notion of installing parking meters on Main to help pay for those repairs.

Flynn did what he could to inject a little energy into the subject matter and still stay true to the reporter’s code of objectivity.

The Dispatch wasn’t exactly the Daily Planet, he reflected. But then again, he wasn’t exactly Perry White. Nobody around here would ever call him Chief. Even without Rhoda’s periodic snits, he wasn’t certain that anyone, including himself, really believed he was in charge.

His mother cast a very long shadow. Elizabeth Flynn Hennessy Steele. Even her name cast a very long shadow.

He loved her. Of course he did. Most of the time he even liked her. They’d butted heads plenty when he was growing up, but he’d always respected her. You had to respect a woman who ran her life and her business with equal fervor, and expected everyone else to do the same.

Just as you had to give her credit for stepping out of that business when necessity demanded it. Even if she had dumped it in her reluctant son’s lap.

She’d dumped it all, including, he thought with a wary glance toward Rhoda’s desk, surly reporters.

She was filing her nails instead of working, he noted. Baiting him. File away, he thought. Today’s not the day we square off, you cranky old bat.

But that day soon will come.

He was deep into adjusting the layout on page 1 of section B when Dana walked in.

“Not even a cursory knock. No flirtatious little head peek in the door. Just stomp right in.”

“I didn’t stomp. I’ve got to talk to you, Flynn.” She threw herself into a chair, then glanced around. “Where’s Moe?”

“It’s backyard day for the Moe.”

“Oh, right.”

“And maybe you could go by, hang out with him for a while this afternoon. Then maybe you could throw together some dinner, so I’d come home to a hot meal.”

“Sure, that’ll happen.”

“Listen, I’ve had a rough morning, I’ve got a goddamn headache, and I’ve got to finish this layout.”

Dana pursed her lips as she studied him. “Rhoda sniping at you again?”

“Don’t look,” Flynn snapped before Dana could turn around. “You’ll just encourage her.”

“Flynn, why don’t you just fire her ass? You take entirely too much crap off her.”

“She’s been with the Dispatch since she was eighteen. That’s a long time. Now, while I appreciate you dropping in to tell me how to handle my employee problems, I need to finish this.”