“Alan Alda.” A laugh bursts out of me. “What?” “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” I can’t stop laughing. Both at her answer and at the defiant look on her face. “How old is he? Like eighty?” “He’s eighty-eight and I’m not crushing on him now, obviously.” She pauses. “Nineteen seventy-four Alan Alda. Hawkeye Pierce was a babe.”
