22. Nationalities

"Daddy?"

Mentor looked up from where he had bent to examine the baking potato pie in the oven. "Yes, sweetheart?"

She clutched MeeMee to her chest and he could barely see her face above the big red panda's fluffy head. "I'm hungry."

"I'm hungry, too," he replied softly. He looked towards the still-hot roast lamb leg he had just brought in from the grill out back. "Dinner's almost ready, love."

"What did you say the meat was again, Daddy? Is it horse meat?"

He smiled and closed the oven. He took off his mittens and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. "No, sweetie. We don't eat horse meat."

"Why don't we eat Jack meat? Because we're Jew?"

"What?" Mentor burst into laughter. "Where'd you hear that? Sweetie, we're not Jew. Who said that?"

"Then what are we?"

He made a show of thinking, raising his eyes to the ceiling and tapping a finger to his cheek. "We're half-Greek and half-American. Daddy is, that is," he amended as he remembered something. "You're Greek-American and, um, half