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George brightened at the knock at the door. It was "Shave and a Haircut," the same knock he always gave. He still looked through the peephole but knew all along who it was.
"Trevor!" he exclaimed once the door was unchained.
Green eyes glinted in the dark, and strong arms balanced a bouquet of daffodils and a plate wrapped in plastic.
"I'd hug you, but then you'd be wearing these," Trevor explained. He entered and set everything down on the dining room table. "OK, now," he suggested, arms outstretched.
George embraced his son, but with lips pursed. Trevor took care not to hurt him.
"You know," George said, "it's a shame to wear such a nice suit with all that scruff on your face."
"It's fur, Dad," Trevor retorted.
The kitchen door opened, and a tall, thin woman of about forty approached with a bowl of potato salad.
"Tessie!" Trevor yelped, and ran across the room to nuzzle her before she could put the bowl down. She giggled, sounding significantly younger.
"Help with anything?" Trevor i