Funny, how people like that always seemed to find
someone else to manage all those tedious little details for
them, Luke thought cynically. On the other hand, from what
little he'd seen of his almost father-in-law, he wouldn't be at
all surprised if the man needed help tying his shoelaces.
Cat's description of him as an absentminded professor
seemed pretty accurate.
"What about Susan?" he asked. "Can't she manage things
for him?"
Until today, he'd thought Susan was her mother. Maybe
he should have asked Devon for a guidebook to her family
relations.
"Susan is an artist," Cat said, as if that explained
everything. When Luke arched one brow in silent question,
she expanded. "She throws pots."
"At anyone in particular?" Luke asked, raising both
brows.
Cat laughed and shook her head. "She's a potter. She
makes vases and urns and stuff." Her hands shaped vague
curves as if to indicate the wide variety of pottery Susan
produced. "She's actually pretty well-known. People collect
her stuff, and she's got a couple of pieces in museums
somewhere. She's really very talented."
"So you manage things for Susan, too," Luke guessed.
"Well, not her business stuff. She works through a gallery
for that. But she's prone to forget to cash her checks and
return important phone calls. She and Larry are perfect for
each other in some ways. They're both very creative, but,
unfortunately, they're both prone to forget little things like
eating and picking up the mail and doing laundry."
"Creative? I thought Larry taught anthropology at
UCLA."
"Archeology," Cat corrected. "That's what he does for a
living, and I guess he's pretty good at it. His students like
him, anyway." She grinned suddenly. "Probably because
he's an easy grader. Larry thinks bad grades are
discouraging."
"I always thought so," Luke said dryly and laughed.
"Me, too." She sat back down on the sofa, and sank into
his chair, the brandy snifter cradled firmly in one hand.
"Larry earns a living teaching, but his love is inventing
things."
"Anything in particular?" Luke asked.
"All kinds of things, but I think the main goal is invent
something that works." Brow wrinkled, Cat thought about
that for a moment. "That's really his problem, I guess. He
has great ideas but the...um...execution leaves something
to be desired. My favorite was the garbage disposal worm
composter."
"The what?" somewhere in the back of his mind, he was
aware that this was shaping up to be one of stranger
afternoons of his life. He wasn't sure what protocol was
after being dumped by one's fiancée but was reasonably
certain it didn't include sitting down with the bearer of bad
tidings―who had already suggested he could marry her
instead―and letting her tell him about the family he was no
longer going to be a part of. Well, at least it was more
entertaining than brooding what he was going to do about
his grandfather's ultimatum now that Devon had run off
with her dairy farmer.
"The garbage disposal worm composter," Cat said. She'd
nudged her shoes off, and now she curled her up under her
with a coltish grace that made Luke thoughts drift in
directions he was determined not to them go. "Vermiculture
is a really big business, know."
"Vermiculture?" Luke raised his brows. "Growing
vermin? I thought the idea was to get rid of them, not
cultivate them."
"Not growing vermin," Cat said, chuckling. "Worms.
Growing worms. I guess wormiculture doesn't sound or
maybe 'verm' is Latin for worm or something." She frowned
over that possibility for a moment before shaking her head
as if physically dismissing the thought. "Anyway, people
grow worms and then sell them to bait shops for fishing,
but the really big business is dumps, I guess. I'm not sure
exactly what they do with them, but apparently they use
lots of worms. Supposedly you can make a lot of money that
way."
"And Larry was going to become the southern California
worm king?" Luke asked with lazy interest.
"No, he wasn't going to grow the worms himself. See,
you can feed the worms chopped-up leaves and coffee
grounds and stuff, so he had this great idea for a garbage
disposal that would chop the stuff up and feed it directly to
a worm bed under the sink. It was really a great idea, only
it had some...problems."
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