"He's a little…."
"I know, mum."
"Does he always…"
"Yes, mum."
"He's doing the dishes!"
Annie Cartwright smiled at her mystified mother and craned her neck to look into the kitchen, where Sam Tyler was doing the dishes, sleeves rolled up and dishtowel tucked into his belt like an apron. Not wanting her odd, sweet co-worker to have to spend the holiday alone, Annie had invited him around to her mother's for Christmas dinner.
The elder Cartwright had enjoyed the young man's manners, but, all in all, found him rather strange. She had nearly fainted when he insisted on clearing the table and doing the washing up.
"Sam's an enlightened sort of guy, mum. Very modern."
"I thought all the coppers you worked with were boors."
"Sam's…different."
"You like him."
"I do, mum. I really do."