Page 149 of The Rom-Commers

“You know those bedraggled teachers on the first floor who have eight kids?”

“I think they havethreekids—but okay.”

“Kenji was with us because we were dropping him off to watch cartoons at their place for the evening while we went for a bite of dinner.”

I nodded agreeably, like that was a pleasant but not super-relevant detail.

But then my dad gave me a funny little smile that flipped all the lights on in my brain.

“Wait!” I gasped—raising both hands to my mouth. “Were you—?”

My dad didn’t say anything, but his eyes twinkled.

“Hold on! You’re saying—?”

This time, a pleased-with-himself shrug.

“You?” I asked. “And Mrs. Otsuka?”

My dad tapped his nose, likeBingo.

“You were going on adate?” I asked. “With each other?”

“Yep.”

“You’re dating? You’re, like, boyfriend-and-girlfriend?”

“More like late-in-life companions,” he said, “but that’s the basic gist.”

“When did this happen?”

My dad kept wrestling with insuppressible smiles. “Well,” he said, “you know. She lost her husband a few years back.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know.” Then, for proof: “Mr. Otsuka.”

“Exactly,” my dad said. “And ever since then—over a respectful time frame, of course—we just kind of developed a little flirtation.”

The pieces snapped together in my mind. “Is that why you’ve been teaching Kenji how to play the harmonica?”

“He’s been a little homesick.”

“And that’s why she kept having everyone over for dinner?”

“She’s a phenomenal cook.”

“And that’s why she kept stopping by with flowers from the community garden?”

Now the smile he’d been suppressing broke through. “It’s not her fault,” he said. “I’m just so irresistible.”

“Dad!” I said, nodding. “I’m very impressed.”

“Still got it,” he said, with a little wink.

“I love this for you,” I said. And I did.

“You know what I keep thinking?” my dad said then.

“What?”

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