“He did,” Miguel said. “After a couple of years on the road, he decided that if he was going to follow his grandfather, he’d be better received if he had credentials. Those degree letters after a person’s name mean a lot to some people. He finished university in just under three years.”

“That long?” Mike murmured. Miguel looked at her.

“Joe made a lot of friends,” Vera said, “so when his son graduated, a man at Sony gave him a job.”

“Oh. Wow. Fancy,” Mike said.

Miguel raised an eyebrow at his daughter’s tone.

Vera seemed oblivious. “His father worked his way up and became a big shot in the company. He set up trust funds for his two kids. Griff decided to use the money for school.”

“How wise of him,” Mike said.

Miguel narrowed his eyes at her.

“But Griff had only been at school for two months when some guy said, ‘What do you know about hardship? You live on a trust fund.’ So Griff—”

“Let me guess,” Mike said. “After that, he put himself through school on student loans. Just like us commoners. I bet he’s paid them off by now.”

Vera looked at her in shock, while Miguel’s expression was of disapproval.

Embarrassed, Mike stared at what was left of her sandwich. “Kansas barbecue. Nothing like it, is there? It’s Kansas all the way.”

“Michaela,” her father said softly.

Mike had a vision, a wish, that the old cellar roof would open up and she’d fall through. Alas, it did not. She cleared her throat. “He sounds like a great guy. I’m sure you’ll have a good time working with him.”

When Vera turned away, Mike gave her father a look of There! Satisfied?

He didn’t seem to be. “We should—” His phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. Vera didn’t carry a cell phone but left “all that” to her husband. It was a text. He looked at his wife. “It’s Kelly. She’s looking for you. This morning she said something about your autographing table. Maybe she wants to know where to put it.”

Vera wadded up her sandwich paper and threw it down. “My what? I’ll tell her what she can do with her autographing table! I am not a damned celebrity!” She stood up. “Where is she?”

“With Forey, I think. She—” He didn’t say more because Vera was already heading toward the new gate.

He turned to his daughter. He had on his “dad duty” look. He did this when Mike was too much like Vera. “I’m doing all I can to get your mother to stay here. If some kid asking for her help to write a book is what she needs, then you and I are going to give it to her. She...” He turned toward where his daughter was looking.