“Welcome, welcome,” Ed said when Trent and the others stepped out of the elevator into the condo’s entryway. “Hang up your coats and stay a while.” He had his arm wrapped around a buxom blonde at least twenty years younger than his fifty-five.
Trent hadn’t met her as she was, according to Mick, a new acquisition of his father’s. “Number who knows what, since Mom died.”
That had happened seven years previously and once Ed had gotten past his grief, he’d become a Merry Widower. He always treated the woman of the moment well, giving her expensive gifts and taking her on extended trips around the country, or out of it. The problem was, they only seemed to last for a few months before he tired of them and moved on to someone younger and, in Trent’s opinion at least, flashier than the previous
