She was crying again by the time I joined them, Crew already at her, obviously. And looking like he was settling in for the long haul too, planting his butt in a chair and crossing one shiny dress shoe over his knee, pad and pen in his lap. If only he didn't look so fantastic I could muster some angst against him and feel more like a defender instead of a participant in her questioning. At least I had the satisfaction of accepting he hadn't learned from what Dad said. So be ...