Free The Big Keep: A Lena Dane Mystery (Lena Dane Mysteries) by Melissa F. Olson Page B

get my sense of appropriate professional dress from him. “Well, Nate, Mr. Dane is my father. You should call me Peter.”
    “Okay.”
    “Anybody else around?” I asked casually. I didn’t really want to see my sister. She was going to bug me about the baby. “We brought enough food for everybody.” I grabbed an extra stool for Nate, who was standing awkwardly by the counter, and then walked around the counter to start setting up the subs on the table behind my dad.  
    “Aaron is in the back room stocking the new shipment. And your sister took a deposit to the bank.”
    “Cool,” I said, trying not to sound relieved. I took an enormous bite of a turkey sub, and spent several minutes trying to chew. “More for us,” I mumbled.  
    My dad rolled his eyes and looked over to Nate. “Tell me, Nate, what kind of comics do you read?”
    “Actually, I haven’t really read any, sir,” Nate said apologetically.
    My dad gave a little snort. “‘Sir,’ he says. Call me Peter. And that’s okay, nobody’s perfect. Finish that sandwich, and we’ll get you going with some graphic novels, which my younger daughter loves. Selena, what’s in your car right now?”
    “Uh-” I paused, trying to think. “ League of Extraordinary Gentlemen Volume II and the third Sin City book.”  
    Dad shook his head sadly and said to Nate, “Young man, please don’t use my daughter as a role model. I tried to raise her right, but I’m afraid her personal compass doesn’t always face north. All she reads is the violent stuff.”
    “Hey,” I protested. “I don’t have to take this. I’m going to go give Aaron a sandwich.” I hopped off the back countertop and started towards the back of the store. “Nate, you okay?” He nodded, looking interestedly at my dad. I smiled and headed into the storeroom, where I found Aaron, a skinny black teen in a T-shirt that said “Who Watches the Watchmen,” digging through a stack of comics that were still in their shiny plastic shrink-wrap. I chatted with him for a few minutes about school – Aaron was studying mythology at the U – and then returned to rescue Nate.
    And not a moment too soon. Back at the counter, my father had finished eating and was stacking books in front of Nate like the boy had just learned to read.  
    “Whoa, Dad,” I said, walking up. “You’re going to overwhelm the poor kid. What’ve you got? I reached over and picked up the short stack. “ Kingdom Come, Watchmen , and Fables ? Nice, but I think Watchmen’s a little intense for a newbie.” I walked the Moore novel back and picked up Frank Miller’s Batman: Year One instead. My dad nodded approvingly.
    “When you’re right, you’re right, Selena Kyle.”  
    I sent Nate a big confident stage wink and turned back to my father. “Put these on my tab, okay?”
    Nate began to protest, but my dad held up a firm hand. “Not a chance. It’s the man’s first comic books, and I am honored to present them to him as a gift.” He turned to wink at Nate. “Just tell all your friends to stop by the store, eh?” Nate nodded seriously, and I grinned, then felt a stab of pain for Nate. From what I understood, the boy didn’t have many friends. If any.
    “And you,” he said to me, making his severe dad face, “You’re way too skinny, Firecracker. Eat something.”
    I rolled my eyes. Had he not seen me annihilate the sub? But he was just being a dad, so I said I would. After all, I wasn’t going to be thin much longer.
    As we headed back to the car, Nate swung his Great Dane bag and said softly, “Your dad’s really nice.”
    “Yeah, he is.” I started the Jeep and pulled carefully into traffic, conscious that technically I had two kids in the car.
    “Why does he call you Firecracker?”
    I smiled into the rearview mirror. “It’s from when I was a kid. I was eleven, and Rory, my big sister, was fourteen, and she had her first boy over for dinner. And afterwards they were watching TV in the living