I met up with Christy, Wren, and Trip after lunch on Wednesday. We’d all gone to class, even though half the university had left for Thanksgiving already or was in the process of leaving. The day was gray and pensive—the sky couldn’t decide if it was going to rain or not—which reflected my mood perfectly. The others talked about the party the night before, while I was content to walk along in my own little world.

Christy’s “future husband” introductions had unnerved me. Sure, we’d been joking about “not until we’re married” for a while, but she seemed to be moving a lot quicker than I was. I still had a million questions about her, and none of them had easy answers, much less quick ones.

Wren seemed to sense my unease, and for once she didn’t needle me about it. She’d probably had time to think about things too, and even she’d have to admit that Christy had jumped the gun a little.

I desperately wanted to talk to Wren and find out how Christy and Simon had become engaged. I kept remembering what her brother Danny had said, that she’d simply declared him her fiancé. At the time I’d thought he was just teasing her, but all of a sudden I wasn’t so sure. Had the same thing just happened to me?

Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of a way to talk to her alone before we left. She and Trip had to pack for their drive to Atlanta. Christy and I had to do the same for our flight to San Diego. So unless I wanted to answer some awkward questions from Christy, I needed to leave it alone.

I felt like I was flying blind into a relationship with her, but I didn’t have much choice. I didn’t have charts or nav beacons. I didn’t even have instruments! Was my engine running too hot? Was I flying too low? Too slow? The metaphors alone were enough to drive me crazy.

So I kept my questions to myself and responded with a smile when Christy silently asked if I was okay. She realized that something was going on in my head, even if she didn’t know what. So instead of bouncing around, she walked silently beside me.

“Are you nervous?” she finally asked. “About meeting my family?”

“What? No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just making a list in my head. Stuff I need to pack. Running clothes, something dressy, stuff like that.” It was a white lie, but less messy than the truth.

“Oh. Okay.” She glanced up at me. “They’re going to love you, though. Mom says…”

She chattered on nervously, and I didn’t have the guts to stop her. I felt guilty for letting her worry, but then again, it probably wouldn’t hurt for her to realize that something was up between us. We’d have to talk about it sooner or later, although I had no idea when.

At home we headed to our separate bedrooms. Wren and Trip weren’t planning to leave until later in the afternoon, but Christy and I had a flight to catch. So I packed my clothes and toiletries in my suitcase. Then I added some books and few other things to my backpack, and I was ready to go. Christy took an hour and a half, and I finally went to check on her when she still hadn’t come downstairs. I knocked on her half-open door and then gently pushed it open.

Her room looked like her dresser and closet had both exploded. Two large suitcases stood by the door and she was doing her best to close a smaller one. I looked at my watch.

“Um… we need to leave in about fifteen minutes. Anything I can help with?”

“Oh, thanks! Would you take those downstairs for me?”

“Wait… these?” I gestured at the large suitcases. I’d thought they were empty, just standing by in case her things wouldn’t all fit in the smaller suitcase.

“Yes.” She caught my expression. “What’s the matter?”

“You know it’s just four days, right?”

“Of course I do. Please don’t give me a hard time about all my clothes. I’m taking a bunch of summer outfits home so I can return with my winter clothes.”

“Hold on…” I nodded at the closet and all the other clothes strewn around the room. “You mean this isn’t all your clothes?”

“Are you kidding? No, no way I could keep all my things in here.”

My eyes widened, but she missed it.

“I have a full closet at home, plus all this stuff. Crap! Will you help me close this stupid suitcase?”

I put my weight on it and persuaded the latches to close.

“Thanks! This is the one with things I’m gonna wear. Lemme pack my bathroom stuff and a few delicates and then I’ll be ready. Five minutes.”

I knew better than to trust her estimate. “Five minutes” of Christy-time was half an hour in the Newtonian universe. Still, pestering her would only make things worse, so I lugged the two large suitcases downstairs.

Trip was walking from his office to the kitchen. He backed up and did a double take.

“Don’t ask,” I said.

He shook his head, and his expression said it all: Better you than me, pal.

I went upstairs, brought my own things down, and loaded everything into the Land Cruiser. Then I waited for Christy to finish packing. When she did, after only twenty-five minutes, I loaded her two smaller bags. We said goodbye to Trip and Wren and left in a bit of a hurry.

“Why are we rushing?” Christy asked. She looked at her watch. “Uh-oh. I thought we were two hours early. In my defense, it wasn’t my watch this time. I stink at math, too. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I usually have to get to the gate an hour early. It’s just a habit. We don’t have to this time, though. Thank goodness.”

“Why? I mean, why do you get there so early?”

“I fly for free because my dad works for the airline.”

“Oh, that’s right. Pretty cool.”

“Yes, but… I have to fly stand-by. I have to show up early, wear a coat and tie—I’m representing the company when I fly, so I have to look nice—and I might get bumped if there aren’t enough seats.”

“Oh. That kinda stinks.”

“Right. It’s worst around holidays, though.”

“Like Thanksgiving.”

“Exactly. I don’t wanna get stranded in the Atlanta airport, so I paid full fare this time. That’s why I’m not in a coat and tie, and why we don’t have to be there early.” I glanced at my watch and mashed the accelerator. “We’re gonna be cutting it close, though.”

Christy nodded. Then she jerked upright. She yanked open her purse but then relaxed.

I chuckled as she pulled out her ticket. “Thought you’d forgotten it?”

“Yeah. My mom sent it to me a month ago, and I kept it on top of my dresser so I wouldn’t lose it.”

“You realize that anything is likely to disappear in your bedroom, don’t you? I mean, I’ve seen you pile clothes pretty much everywhere.”

“Ha ha. Very funny, Mr. Clean.”

“Hold on a sec… That’s the ticket your mom sent you? I thought you were going to trade it in and get one on the same flight as mine.”

“I forgot. We’ve been so busy and all.”

“I managed to—” I gritted my teeth. “Never mind. We’ll take care of it when we get to the airport.”

“Oh. Okay. So… no problem.”

Only it was a problem.

“I’m sorry, but this flight left four hours ago,” the ticket agent explained when we got there. “I can’t exchange it.”

“Can’t you do anything?” I insisted.

“No, I’m sorry. I can only refund a ticket before the time of departure.”

I took a firm grip on my frustration.

“Can’t I just buy a new one?” Christy asked.

“Of course. To San Diego via Atlanta?”

“Yes, please.”

The agent checked her terminal. “We have a flight that leaves in thirty minutes.”

“That one!” Christy said. She was actually excited.

I was borderline furious. First, that she’d forgotten to exchange her original ticket. But also because she’d have to pay for a new one. Last-minute tickets were insanely expensive, although the agent was able to refund the cost of the return ticket and apply it to the new ones. Still, Christy didn’t bat an eye when the agent told her how much it would cost.

“Can I write a check?” she asked.

“Certainly.”

“See?” Christy said to me. “Problem solved.”

I almost asked if she could afford it, but I didn’t want to give the agent any reason to call the bank to verify the funds. I certainly couldn’t afford to pay for her ticket if her check wasn’t good. Not unless I wanted to use my credit card and then dip into savings to pay it off. So I kept my mouth shut and fingers crossed.

We spent another ten minutes getting the ticket printed and paid for, but the agent called the gate to tell them we were coming. We made it with ten minutes to spare. As far as I was concerned, that was nearly the same as watching the plane depart without us. Christy seemed unfazed and chattered about her family or something.

I wasn’t paying attention. Instead, I was wondering how crazy I was to want a relationship with her. She was my exact opposite in so many ways. She didn’t know a thing about my lifestyle, either. And she seemed willfully oblivious to my moods.

The last wasn’t really true. She was acutely aware of my frustration and the reason for it. She simply didn’t know how to deal with it. Mindless chatter was her answer. I finally figured it out after she nervously glanced at me the fifth or sixth time.

I didn’t want to start an argument, especially when we were trapped in a plane, so I stopped her the only way I knew how: I kissed her.

“Relax,” I said. “Sorry I’m brooding. I’ll get over it. I just get frustrated when things don’t go like they’re supposed to.”

“I’m so sorry about the ticket. I completely forgot.”

“That’s okay. I just have to remind myself that you’re total chaos sometimes. I’m all about order.”

“You’re yin and I’m yang,” she said.

“Um… what?”

“You don’t know about yin and yang? Oh, it’s so cool. Nobu taught me. It’s the idea that opposites are really part of the same whole. You can’t have one without the other. They’re the ‘cloudy side’ and the ‘sunny side.’ You’re the cloudy, by the way. And I’m the sunny, of course.” She beamed at me and then chattered away.

At least she wasn’t flustered anymore. That was something.

Christy’s ticket mix-up made life interesting at the other end of the trip as well. We arrived in San Diego and no one was there to pick us up, since we hadn’t told them about the flight change. I had to take some of the blame, though, since I hadn’t even thought of calling them during our layover in Atlanta.

We found a pay phone. Christy glossed over the real cause and made it sound like we simply had to take a later flight.

“Don’t get upset,” she begged me after she hung up.

“But you totally just lied to your mom.”

“I didn’t lie. I just… left out a few details.”

“And how is that not a lie?”

“The same way you left out a few details about talking to Gina when I thought it was Sara.”

“Ouch! Touché. But I hate to break it to you, I was lying. A lie by omission is still a lie.”

“Whatever. I’ll tell them… eventually.”

“They’ll find out anyway when you tell them how much the new ticket cost. I mean, that was a pretty large check you wrote.”

“Oh, that?” She waved it away. “My dad’ll take care of it.”

My eyebrows shot up.

“He may yell a little, but he always fixes things.”

I decided not to have that argument either. Besides, it wasn’t really my problem. She had her own bank account and parents to keep it in the black. But a niggling part of me remembered Trip and Wren’s Halloween argument about money. Once again, I reminded myself that it wasn’t my problem.

It didn’t occur to me that Trip had probably told himself the same thing.

Christy’s brother Danny picked us up instead of her mother. He pulled up to the curb and climbed from the driver’s side of a big Cadillac.

“Birdy-bird,” he called over the roof of the car.

She squealed in surprise. “Danny!”

“Mom sent me instead. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s awesome.”

“Lemme pop the trunk and I’ll help you with the bags,” he said to me. He reached into the car and then joined us on the sidewalk. He gave Christy a hug and shook my hand. “Good to see you again. She’s hard to say no to, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do. She’s had the rest of us wrapped around her finger since she came home from the hospital.”

“Danny, that isn’t true.”

“Sure it is, Sis.” He gestured at the suitcases. “All of these yours?”

“Yeah.” I gestured feebly. “She… uh…”

“Oh, I’m familiar,” he said with a grin. “She used to pack all her dolls for family trips.”

“I did not.”

“She even packed a little suitcase of doll clothes.” He hefted one of the large bags and her smaller one.

I grabbed her other large suitcase and my own.

“I knew she’d have a bunch,” he said, “so I brought Dad’s car instead of Mom’s.”

The Cadillac’s trunk looked like it needed its own zip code. Our four suitcases plus Christy’s overnight bag and my backpack barely took up half of it.

“Sabrina’s in the front,” Danny said as he dropped the trunk lid. “You guys hop in the back.” He walked back to the driver’s side, and I opened the rear passenger door for Christy. I climbed in after her and closed the door with a soft thump.

The woman in the front seat turned. “Hey, Birdy, good to see you.”

“Sabrina! Good to see you too. You’re as beautiful as ever.”

“Thanks. You too. How was your flight?”

“It was good. The guy next to me was really cute.” She flashed me a grin. “When did you get in?”

“About an hour ago. We hadn’t even settled in before you called. Danny was restless from the flight—you know how he is when he isn’t the one flying—so he volunteered to come pick you up.” She glanced at me and smiled. “Sorry, you must be Paul. I’m Sabrina.”

I shook her hand over the seat back. “Nice to meet you.”

She was pretty—what I could see of her, at least—with long, dark hair and finely sculpted features.

“Your mom put us together in your bedroom,” she said to Christy. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s awesome!”

Danny glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You and I bunk together on the screen porch.”

“Fine by me,” I said.

“Nothing against you,” he said, “but not exactly what I had in mind. Mom’s just being old-fashioned.”

“Not until you’re married,” Christy said. Then she explained to me, “Mom won’t let couples sleep together until they’re married.”

“She knows we’ve been living together,” Danny groused. “For two years.”

“There’s a simple solution,” Sabrina said.

“Exactly,” Christy agreed. “Why haven’t you married her yet, Danny?”

He glared at her in the mirror.

“Everyone loves her, even Rich.”

“Yes, Daniel,” Sabrina teased, “why haven’t you married me yet? My family keeps asking the same thing.”

“Can we change the subject?”

Sabrina smiled fondly at him.

“So, Paul,” he said, “are you ready for your trial by fire? Meeting all of us at once?”

“Can we change the subject?” I joked.

“Nah, you’ll do fine,” he said. “Mom already likes you. Dad’s a tougher nut to crack, but he’ll come around. Everyone else is pretty laid-back. Just don’t stand too close to Rich. Don’t make eye contact, either. And don’t stick anything through the bars of the cage.”

“Danny!” Christy cried.

Sabrina laughed. “Oh, Danny, be nice. Rich is a big softie. You just have to know how to handle him.”

“I never figured that out.” He glanced at me in the mirror. “Rich is fifteen months younger than me, but he used to beat me up. I swear, he was mean even as a kid.”

“He wasn’t mean,” Christy said. “Laurence said it was ’cause you and your friends made fun of him.”

“Yeah, ’cause he was a little troll.” He grumbled, “Now he’s a big troll, with weapons and hand-to-hand combat training.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Christy said to me. “You’ll get along fine with Rich. He’s just very protective.”

“Only with you,” Danny objected.

“And me,” Sabrina said.

“And Mom,” Christy added.

“Okay, so he’s protective of women,” Danny said. To me, “Those of us with testicles are on our own.”

“Roger that,” I said.

“Ah, Rich isn’t that bad,” he said. “He’s got a friend with him, so I’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior.”

“Rich is here?” Christy said, surprised.

“Yeah, he decided to spend a couple of days at the ol’ homestead. Brought a friend with him. Their unit’s on standby to standby ’cause of the whole Beirut thing, so they can’t leave town.”

“Mom didn’t know if he was gonna make it,” Christy said. “He thought he’d be deployed.”

“He still might be. Dad doesn’t think so, but the scuttlebutt is above our pay grade.” He glanced at me as he slowed to turn into a neighborhood. “Still time to bail.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Christy said. She hugged my arm. “Everyone will love you.”

“Last chance,” Danny said before he turned into a driveway.

I grinned. “Faint heart never won fair lady.”

He laughed, and Christy beamed up at me.

“You girls head inside,” Danny said as he maneuvered the big car into the garage. “Paul and I can handle the luggage.”

We climbed out of the car, and I got my first good look at Sabrina. For a moment I thought I might have to put my eyes back in my head. She looked like a brunette Christie Brinkley, only close enough to touch. I managed to recover before she noticed, but only just. I distracted myself by helping Christy out of the car.

“I’ll see you inside,” she said. “I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

I smiled and watched her and Sabrina walk into the house. Then I glanced at Danny, who was doing the same.

Of course, I thought, the recruiting-poster jet pilot Marine has a supermodel girlfriend.

For a moment I wondered why I kept finding myself around better-looking, more popular guys. Then again, I was probably having more sex than they were. Unfortunately, I wasn’t having any sex at the moment, and no prospect of it in the next few days.

Danny waited till the girls shut the door behind them. Then he raised the trunk lid and gestured me behind it.

“All right,” he said quickly, his voice low, “here’s the tactical situation before you roll in.” He stopped and chuckled to himself. “You probably—”

“I got it. Pilot’s kid, remember? I speak the lingo.”

“Yeah, right, sorry. Anyway, I like you,” he said earnestly, “so I want you to stick around. Here’s what you should expect. Mom’s already on your side. That’s about seventy-five percent of the battle right there. When you meet Dad, give him a firm handshake and make eye contact. Call him ‘sir,’ but only when Mom isn’t around.”

“Roger.”

He grinned at the word. “Right, so… You’ll figure out Harry and Marianne when you meet them tomorrow. He’s a real hotshot, like Dad. Gonna be an admiral one day. She’s a sweetheart. You’ll love her. James and Lynne are here already. He’s pretty mellow. She’s nice enough but quiet and a bit of a fussbudget. Rich is… a good guy. But he’s disagreeable. Best word I can think of. He won’t like you, but it isn’t personal. He’s just wired different than the rest of us.”

“Got it. Your mom’s on my side. Call your dad ‘sir,’ but only when she isn’t around. Figure out the rest when I meet them.”

“Yep. That’s about it. The kids are all little versions of their parents, some more than others. Did Birdy—?”

The door from the house opened and a man’s voice said, “You guys need help?”

Danny raised his head over the lid of the trunk. He relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Mom sent me,” the man said as he joined us. He was shorter than Danny, but with the same build and the same blue eyes. He wore his dark hair short and sported a mustache. “You must be Paul,” he said as he extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. Jim Carmichael.”

“Paul Hughes. Nice to meet you.”

“The girls were organizing a search party,” Jim said to Danny.

“Right. I was just giving Paul a head start on meeting everyone.”

“So we like him?” Jim said.

“Way more than the last one.” Danny glanced at me. “Sorry to keep bringing him up, but he made an impression.”

“A bad one,” Jim agreed. He gestured at the trunk. “Lemme guess, most of this is Birdy’s?”

“How’d you know?” Danny joked.

I pulled out my backpack and suitcase.

“Come on, dude,” Jim said to his brother, “let’s haul these inside.”

They each took a large suitcase and a smaller one.

Danny grinned at me. “Last chance to bail.”

“Are you kidding? I made it this far, didn’t I?”

“I see what you mean,” Jim said to Danny. He smiled at me. “All right. Let’s go meet the family.”

A gaggle of pre-teen girls were waiting for us. They were brimming with curiosity but fell silent at the sight of me.

“Hi. I’m Paul.”

“We know,” the oldest said. “You’re Aunt Birdy’s boyfriend.”

“That’s the rumor. And you’re… Virginia?” Christy had told me about her nieces and nephews on the flight, and I’d done my best to memorize everyone’s names and ages.

“How’d you know?”

“A little Birdy told me.”

She smiled prettily.

Christy moved next to me.

“And I bet you’re Amber,” I said to the next-oldest girl.

“Uh-huh. And that’s Rose and Grace.”

Grace was small and very shy, with sun-gold hair and eyes like Christy’s, while the others had sandy brown hair and darker blue eyes.

“Grace is mine,” Jim said to me. “The rest are Harry’s girls.” He tossed his chin toward the door and said to Danny, “Come on. These weigh a ton. Let’s take ’em back.”

“Let’s go, girls,” Danny said to the gaggle. “Sabrina promised to show you her latest magazines.”

He and Jim disappeared deeper into the house with the girls in tow.

Christy gestured to her parents, so I set down my bags.

“Mom, Dad,” she said, “this is Paul. Paul, meet my mom and dad.”

Her father was an older version of Jim, heavier but still compact, about my height, with dark hair going gray at the temples. Something about him piqued my interest, a sort of buzzing vitality that age hadn’t diminished. He extended a hand.

“Harold Carmichael,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

I shook his hand firmly and met his eyes, ice blue like Christy’s. “Nice to meet you, s— Mr. Carmichael.”

“Call me Harold.”

“Yes, sir. Harold.”

Christy’s mother was an inch shorter but a few pounds heavier than her daughter. She had blonde hair going slightly gray and eyes the same blue as Jim and Danny’s. She was a small, elegant woman who’d probably been pretty as a girl, but had grown into her beauty as she’d aged. She smiled warmly.

“I’m Anne. Nice to finally meet you, Paul,” she said. “Christine’s told us so much about you.”

“She’s the only one who calls me that,” Christy whispered up at me.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Carmichael.”

“Thank you, dear, but call me Anne.”

“Okay, Anne. Nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting me to your lovely home.”

“You’re more than welcome. Have you eaten?”

“We had dinner on the plane,” Christy said, “but…”

“You’re hungry again? I’m a bit peckish myself. Why don’t you show Paul where he’ll sleep and then we’ll have a snack.” She smiled at me. “You can take your things through there. I hope you don’t mind the porch. We’re a bit cramped for space. The weather here never gets very cold, though, and it’s actually quite nice out there.”

“Danny said it’s fine,” I fibbed. I picked up my bags and took them out to the porch.

Christy followed and pulled the door closed to give us a moment of privacy.

The screen porch was fairly large, with comfy-looking wicker furniture. The longer couch was made up as a bed. Danny’s suitcase sat atop it. My “bed” was a military cot, the old style with a wooden frame. Anne (or someone) had made it up with sheets, a couple of blankets, and a pillow. She’d even turned down the covers for me.

“Sorry you have to sleep out here,” Christy said. “Every other room in the house is full. Well, except my dad’s office. No one sleeps in there, even though it has a couch and more than enough space. He’s just—”

I kissed her.

She moistened her lips and slowly opened her eyes. “I was chattering, wasn’t I?”

“Mmm hmm. Relax. I’ll be fine. Yeah, I’m a bit nervous, but your family has been super nice so far.”

“Okay. I’m just worried about my dad. He’s…”

“You’re his only daughter,” I said. “I get it. I’ll do fine.”

She nodded and then smiled up at me shyly. “Will you kiss me again?”

I was happy to. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, we should get back inside before they figure out what we’re up to.”

I followed her in.

“I hope you like your bunk,” her father said. “It isn’t a five-star hotel, but it’s clean and dry.”

“It’s very nice, sir. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’” he said automatically. “I’m just Harold at home. Would you like a drink?”

“Um… sure.”

“Why don’t we step into my office.”

Both Christy and her mother looked at us, Christy with surprise and worry, her mother with forbearance.

I realized I was about to get the “What are your intentions…?” grilling.

“Don’t keep him too long, dear,” Anne said to him. “He’s had a long trip. He and Christine probably want to relax a bit.”

“Oh, he looks like a sturdy young man.” He gestured for me to precede him.

I’ll be fine, I said to Christy with a look. I’d thought long and hard about what to say to her father if we had this talk. I’d spent the entire morning playing out scenarios in my head as I ran, rehearsing and revising, and he was living up to the stereotype I’d imagined.

I walked down the hall and felt a shiver of fear and determination. I was about to step into the ring with a smarter, stronger, quicker, tougher opponent. He outclassed me in every way, yet I wasn’t going to back down. I couldn’t. Not now, not ever.

I barely saw the dining room on my right. The front entryway loomed at the end of the wide hallway, and a small part of me wanted to walk straight out and never look back. A double doorway to the right opened onto a formal living room. Harold’s office was on the left, behind a pair of pocket doors.

I turned in and automatically scanned the mahogany-paneled room. His “I love me” wall was full of photos and service plaques and commendations. The wall on the left was lined with built-in bookshelves behind an antique desk. The front half of the room was arranged as a sitting area, with a leather couch and two matching wingback chairs in front of a large window.

“Have a seat.” He gestured at the couch and slid the doors closed. Then he opened a small liquor cabinet. “Whiskey all right?”

“Yes, thanks.” I sat and took a deep breath. My skin prickled with another surge of adrenaline.

Harold handed me a glass of amber liquid. Then he sat down in one of the chairs. He swirled the ice in his glass, took a sip, and rested it on the arm of the chair.

“I won’t beat around the bush,” he said. “I’d like to know your intentions toward my daughter.”

I actually laughed. I couldn’t stop myself.

“You think this is funny?”

I wiped the smile off my face and took a long drink of liquor. It burned going down and focused my attention. “No, sir,” I said at last. “It isn’t funny at all. The timing is. I thought you might get to know me first, or wait till right before we left. I didn’t think you’d ask straight out. Sir.”

He didn’t tell me to call him Harold. Instead he leveled his icy blue gaze and waited. I had visions of seasoned Captains withering under that stare. I wasn’t even a wet-behind-the-ears Ensign. My heart made the jump to light speed, but I took a deep breath and faced him squarely.

“With all due respect, sir, that’s between Christy and me.”

“Excuse me?”

“My intentions. Our intentions. They’re between Christy and me. Sir.”

He cocked his head to the side and studied me. He looked so much like an older, craggier version of Christy that I almost laughed. Again.

“You’d better explain,” he said at last.

I took another deep breath and a sip of whiskey. I wouldn’t have been able to speak otherwise. “I like your daughter,” I said. “And she likes me. I don’t know about our long-term prospects, but I’d like to find out. I think she would too. Sir.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

His eyebrows twitched the barest fraction before he controlled them. He had years more experience than Christy, but I could see where some of her temperament came from.

“I don’t mean to sound arrogant, sir, or cocky.”

“Then you need to work on your approach.”

“Maybe.” The alcohol was finally starting to reach my brain. “But look at things from my perspective…”

“Enlighten me,” he said with an economical gesture. His expression didn’t change, but he sat back in his chair and took a sip of whiskey.

“If Christy didn’t think we have a future, why invite me here?”

“Why, indeed?”

“Because family is important to her, and she wants you to like me. She wants me to like you.”

“And do you?”

“I like Danny a lot. I just met the rest of you.”

“And you think that telling me to mind my own business, especially where my daughter is concerned, is going to score points with me?”

“Yes and no. Up to now, you’ve been the man in Christy’s life. If she and I are going to have a relationship, I need to be the man in her life. Which means I’ll have to stand up to you sooner or later.”

“And you thought ‘sooner’ was the better option?”

“You said so yourself, sir, you don’t beat around the bush. Besides, it’d be a lot more painful—for both of us—if I backed down now but stood up to you later. Wouldn’t you agree?” I took another sip of whiskey. Keep the courage coming.

“No, I don’t think I would.”

“What would you think if I were a young Ensign who’d just stood up to you on principle?”

“I’d have you court-martialed for gross insubordination!”

It was my turn to stare at him.

He narrowed his eyes and studied me. “You’re a cool one, all right. Danny said you were.”

“Not really. I’m scared out of my wits right now,” I admitted. “My mouth is so dry I can hardly speak, and I’m pretty sure I have more adrenaline in my blood than oxygen.”

He actually laughed at that, the first crack in his stern façade.

“But I’m willing to stand up to you because I think your daughter’s worth it.” I gave him a moment and then continued, “I once read that courage is grace under pressure. I don’t know if I’m being graceful or not, but I know for a fact that I’m under a lot of pressure.”

“So you think you’re demonstrating courage? As Hemingway said, grace under pressure?”

“I do, sir. I thought about this a lot when I accepted Christy’s invitation. From what she’s said about you, I kinda thought we’d have this conversation. You just… seem like the type, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so. And you’re pretty damn intimidating.”

He nodded agreement.

“But I came here anyway. I walked into your office, even knowing what I was about to face. And then I looked you in the eye and told you something you didn’t want to hear. If that isn’t courage, I don’t know what is.”

He thought about that for a long time. Then he finished his whiskey and savored it before he swallowed. He nodded at my empty glass. “Another?”

“I’d feel guilty drinking another man’s whiskey if we’re going to be… adversaries.”

He laughed again. “Well, we aren’t going to be friends, but I’ll share my whiskey with you. You’ve earned that much.” He stood and took my glass.

“Thank you,” I said when he returned.

“Drink up.” He took a healthy swig himself.

“If you don’t mind, sir, I’d rather wait. The first was to steady my nerves. At this point I need my wits more than anything.”

His eyebrows rose deliberately. “I believe Daniel was right.” He considered me for a moment. “Christy tells us you want to be an architect.”

I didn’t bat an eye at the change of subject. “Yes, sir.”

“Why not the military? Your father served, didn’t he?”

I’d put a lot of thought into how to answer that little gotcha question, too. “Yes, sir,” I said. “But I want to serve my country a different way.”

“And you think building malls and country clubs is serving your country?” He scoffed.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Then by all means, young man, enlighten me.”

“This house you live in.” I gestured with my free hand. “It was designed by an architect. You serve your country, and this house serves you. It protects your family and keeps them safe, which allows you to do the same for other families.” I continued before he could argue. “And what about the hangars for your planes, the docks for your ships? The maintenance buildings and supply depots? Those were all designed by architects.

“So I may not serve my country directly, like you do, but I’ll design buildings that people will live and work in. And that indirectly serves my country. I mean, you couldn’t do your job without people like me doing my job. So if you think I don’t serve my country, then try serving it when your wife and children and grandchildren don’t have shelter and security at home.”

I was tempted to tell him that I was a voracious reader, everything from ancient poetry to modern military science fiction, but I decided to deliver my coup de grâce without context.

“Amateurs discuss tactics, sir, but the professionals discuss logistics. Logistics start at home.” I paused for a heartbeat. “So tell me, Admiral, would you rather discuss the tactics or the logistics of serving our country?”

I sat back and swallowed hard. The lump in my throat didn’t go away, and my muscles felt twitchy from the effort of sitting still, but I’d made my point. Whether he chose to accept it or not was up to him.

“And what if I simply tell her she can’t date you?” he said at last.

I snorted.

He considered me for a long moment before he gave me the benefit of the doubt. “You have a strange idea of humor, son.”

“No, sir. And I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I apologize if it sounded like it.”

“Then what were you laughing at, if not me?”

“Something my grandfather said.” I paused to remember his exact words. “He was a Naval officer. Academy, like you, although he never made Admiral.”

Harold nodded.

“He says, ‘Never give an order you know won’t be obeyed.’”

“He did, did he?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wise man, your grandfather.”

“I think so too.”

“And you think—?”

A knock interrupted him. The pocket doors slid open and Christy’s mother entered with a tray.

“We thought you’d like dessert,” she said.

If her husband was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Christy stood in the entry foyer and looked in nervously.

“Christine, dear,” her mother said, “will you bring us fresh glasses and the bottle of 18-year-old.”

Christy jumped like she’d been scalded, but she went to the liquor cabinet and joined us a moment later.

Anne said to her husband, “Will you do the honors while I serve dessert?”

“My pleasure.” He poured four generous portions of the good stuff.

Christy sat beside me, upright and poised on the edge of her seat. She accepted her glass mechanically and glanced from me to her father.

Anne set plates of cake in front of us. She sat down and accepted a glass of whiskey. “Thank you, dear.” She looked as innocent as a lamb. “So,” she said lightly, “what were you gentlemen talking about?”

“Young Paul here was quoting Hemingway and Napoleon to me,” Harold said.

Christy looked at me.

“We were discussing the nature of courage,” he added.

Anne nodded judiciously. “And what did you decide?” She wasn’t talking about courage.

“Too soon to tell.”

“Surely you both know courage when you see it.”

“Oh, I know it,” he said. “I just don’t know how to respond to it.”

“That’s all right. Paul and Christine can decide for themselves.”

Never give an order you know won’t be obeyed. All of a sudden I had no doubt that Mrs. Carmichael understood that adage better than I did. I couldn’t help but admire her display of soft power.

“What? Oh, of course,” Harold said. He smiled fondly at his daughter. “Birdy has a good head on her shoulders. Besides, we only want her to be happy.” He looked at me. “You understand that, I’m sure.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

Anne cleared her throat quietly.

“Just Harold,” he said, almost absently. Then his mood changed and he decided to make the most of the situation. “So, what should we drink to?”

“Happy beginnings?” Anne suggested.

“Happy beginnings it is. Sláinte.”

We raised our glasses and echoed the toast.

Before we drank I glanced at Harold with a raised eyebrow.

Christy and her mother watched us.

His bright blue eyes narrowed with amusement. “Drink up, son. Your wits can stand down. They’ve earned it.”

“Thank you… Harold.”

He nodded at the unspoken “sir.”

Even Anne smiled at my delivery. She gave me a slight nod and then took a sip of whiskey. “Mmm, that’s nice.”

I glanced at Harold again and raised my glass.

We drank at the same time, and I made sure to lower my glass a fraction of a second before he did. He didn’t miss the gesture. He even smiled.

Christy drew our attention as she drained her glass and set it on the table. Then she uncorked the bottle and poured herself another healthy splash. She lifted the glass with a shaking hand and drank it straight away.

“Oh, Harold,” Anne said with an affectionate laugh, “she’s your daughter.”

“That she is.”

We picked up our plates of cake and chatted about the weather. Well, the older Carmichaels and I did. Christy was silent. Harold was pleasant and even funny once the inquisition was over. He might not like me, but I hoped I’d earned a bit of respect. Still, I wasn’t ready to let down my guard yet.

We returned to the kitchen after we finished the cake and drinks. Danny and Sabrina were there, along with two other men. They stood as soon as Harold entered the room. Habit, I decided.

“Paul,” Harold said, “this is my son Rich.”

“Paul Hughes.” I extended my hand.

“Rich Carmichael.” He took it and squeezed. His grip didn’t let up.

I squeezed back.

He was strong, but so was I, and I matched him until our knuckles turned white from the effort.

I studied him as we vied for top dog. He was shorter than his father and brothers, and wider as well, with dark hair and his father’s baby blue eyes. The rest of him was hard and angular, the first Carmichael I’d met who wasn’t Hollywood good-looking. He wasn’t ugly, but his expression didn’t do him any favors.

I stepped in and clasped my left hand over his. I bore down hard and stared him in the eye.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” I barely kept the strain out of my voice. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He squeezed back, and I felt bones grind.

Harold seemed content to watch the whole thing, but Anne cleared her throat softly.

“Paul,” she said, “this is Rich’s friend, Terry.” She waited several heartbeats and then said, “Boys…?”

Neither of us were willing to let go first.

She cleared her throat again, louder. “Boys!”

Rich released first. Or maybe I did. It was too close to call, and we both knew it.

I gave him a steady, unapologetic look before I turned to the other man like nothing had happened. “Nice to meet you. Paul Hughes.”

“Terry Aguilar.” His handshake was firm and mercifully brief.

I dropped my hand to my side and flexed my fingers to get the blood flowing again. Rich saw and abruptly stopped doing the same thing. Part of me wanted to laugh, but the rest of me was too preoccupied trying to get my heart rate and breathing under control.

“Well, that was interesting,” Danny said. “Who won?”

“Daniel,” Anne warned.

“Yes, Mother. I’ll behave.” He glanced at me. “I dunno ’bout you, but I’ve had a long day. You ready to hit the rack?”

I looked at my watch. It was almost one in the morning as far as my body was concerned.

“James and Lynne and the boys went to bed a while ago,” Sabrina said to Anne as the mood in the kitchen turned domestic. “Harry’s girls are still up, but they were getting settled when we checked on them. Grace is already out like a light.”

“Thank you, dear,” Anne said.

“I think I’m ready for bed too,” Sabrina said. She kissed Danny on the cheek. “See you in the morning. Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

I glanced at Christy and wondered if I was ready to kiss her in front of her family. I decided I was and almost laughed at her look of relief. I kept it to a chaste kiss on the cheek, though.

“Sweet dreams,” I said softly.

Her eyes flashed at what I’d left unspoken.

“See you in the morning,” I told her with a grin. Then I smiled at her parents. “Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Our pleasure,” Harold said, and even sounded like he meant it.

I glanced at Rich and Terry. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“You too,” Rich said, but his voice was flat.

Terry nodded but seemed to dislike me on Rich’s behalf. I couldn’t really blame him, though. I would’ve followed Trip’s lead in a similar situation.

The girls smiled at Danny and me and headed toward Christy’s bedroom. Danny and I waved to the others and went out to the porch.

“Well, that went better than I expected,” he said once we were alone.

“Are you kidding? Did you expect violence or something?”

“With Rich… who knows? Not with Mom and Dad around, but…” He shrugged. “You seemed to do okay with Dad.” He started undressing for bed.

I did the same. “I’m not so sure.”

“Did he do the whole ‘what are your intentions’ thing?”

“That’s exactly what he did.”

“I figured. What’d you say?”

“Told him to mind his own business.”

“Say what?”

“I was polite about it, but I said it’s between Christy and me.”

“And how’d he take it?”

“Better’n I thought he would, to be honest.”

“Yeah, the old man’s a politician.”

“Your mom saved me.”

“Uh-huh. You probably realized by now, but she runs the show around here. Dad wears the stars, but Mom is the commander in chief.”

I told him what she’d done with the cake.

“That’s her, all right,” he said with another laugh. He draped his clothes over the love seat, and I watched him covertly. He wore blue briefs and nothing else, and he was just as good-looking as I thought he’d be. Playgirl would have hired him on the spot.

I wasn’t ugly, and I knew I had a decent body, but something about Danny made me feel plain. His personality was the exact opposite, though, and I felt totally relaxed around him.

He climbed under the covers on the couch, and I did the same on my cot. He yawned and checked his watch.

“You set an alarm?” he asked.

“No. My stupid body will probably wake me up at five thirty. Eastern, of course.”

“Try not to wake me when it does,” he said with a laugh. His watch beeped as he set an alarm for himself.

Both of us were tired, so we didn’t chit-chat much. The night was cool, but a couple of blankets were more than enough to keep me warm. The cot would take some getting used to, though. Still, it was clean and dry, as promised.

Sure enough, I woke up disgustingly early. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but I gave up after an hour or so. I opened my suitcase by feel and found my running clothes. I moved as quietly as I could, but the cot creaked when I sat down to tie my shoes.

“You too?” Danny said.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“No. Been awake about an hour, trying to go back to sleep.” His watch beeped as he pressed buttons.

“I’m going for a run,” I said.

“Wait up. I’ll go with you.”

“Um… you don’t have to. I won’t get lost or anything. Two blocks down, hit the beach, turn right. I saw a park when we were driving in last night. Simple.”

“No, it isn’t that,” he said. He started digging through his suitcase until he found a pair of shorts. “I need the exercise. I don’t burn through calories like Mom and Rich and Birdy. I’m about to eat a ton today, so I’d better do something to keep the weight off.” He found a T-shirt. “How far do you run?”

“Depends.” I began stretching.

“On what?”

“What I’ve got going on in my head. Yesterday I was thinking about what I wanted to say to your dad.”

“So, how far’d you run?”

“Twelve, thirteen miles.”

“Say what?”

“Normal is probably eight or nine.”

“How ’bout we do a half-normal day? Maybe a third-normal?”

“For you,” I said magnanimously, “anything.”

He laughed and tied his shoes. Then he began stretching too. We slipped out the screen door when he was ready.

Danny was a good running companion. He was taller than me and had longer legs, but he wasn’t used to running, so he was happy to go at my pace. His watch beeped after half an hour.

“Three miles and change,” I said. “You wanna go for another three?”

“You’re a bad influence,” he puffed, but kept going.

The park had a decent running path that paralleled the beach. I could see exercise bars and a playground in the predawn light. The ocean hiss-boomed on the other side of the dunes.

“You surf?” Danny asked.

“Uh-uh. You do, though. Right?”

“Yeah. Grew up on the waves. When we lived in Hawaii.”

“How about Christy?”

“She learned in Hawaii too. The second time Dad was there. I was in college.”

“She any good?”

“Birdy’s good at anything she does. She’s fearless.”

I nodded and we fell silent. Danny managed to make it to an hour before he slowed to a walk.

“You keep going if you want,” he panted. “I’m done.”

“Nah. My head’s clear enough.” I glanced at my watch. “Sunrise in about twenty minutes. You wanna stay and watch? Should be kinda peaceful.”

“You and Birdy both have this Zen thing going on. You fit each other.” He walked in a circle with his hands on his hips. “I gotta start doing regular PT again.”

I nodded. My breathing was already returning to normal.

He headed for a water fountain and drank.

“Not too much,” I said. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Oh, that’s right. Thanks.”

We walked for about fifteen minutes to cool off and decided to watch the sun come up after all. The La Jolla skyline wasn’t the most picturesque in the world, but any sunrise was enjoyable as far as I was concerned.

“That was nice,” Danny said as we walked back to the house.

“I like the colors. I was the kid with the Crayola 128-pack. You know?”

“Yeah, I dig,” he said with a laugh.

We passed Rich and Terry on the way out for their own run. Rich seemed annoyed that we’d beaten him to it. Then again, maybe he was annoyed because it was Thursday. Or because the sky was blue. Or simply because.

I hadn’t figured him out yet, obviously.

Danny chuckled as they jogged past. “Wanna bet he’s up at zero dark thirty tomorrow?”

“Just to go running before we do?”

“Yep. Rich doesn’t like losing.”

“Who does?”

“He takes it to a new level. Harry’s a bit like that, but he’s more rational about it. James and I are pretty mellow most of the time. Laurence was the ultimate in laid-back. Nothing bothered that guy.”

“What about Christy?”

“Birdy? She’s somewhere in the middle. She’s always been small, so she was never into contact sports. Not like us guys. But she’s pretty competitive all the same. Anything that doesn’t take size or strength. She’s a better dancer than the rest of us put together, including Harry. A darn good gymnast and diver, too. And she has a beautiful singing voice.”

I nodded and we fell silent.

“Thanks for the heads-up yesterday,” I said as we neared the house. “I really appreciate you helping me fit in.”

“No problem. I like you, especially since Birdy’s a lot happier now. Laurence’s death really hit her hard. It hit us all, but he was her favorite. Mom and Dad’s too, if you get right down to it. Hell, we all loved him. He was the best of us.”

“Only the good die young.”

“You got that right.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Birdy’s a lot happier than I’ve seen her in years. Sabrina thinks so too. And if you’re the reason…” He smiled and spread his hands.

“Let’s hope I’m the reason.”

“I think you’re solid.” He laughed and opened the screen door.

The house was dark and quiet, so I decided to enjoy a hot shower while I could. Danny grabbed his toiletry kit and headed toward another of the house’s four bathrooms.

Anne was in the kitchen when I returned wearing only a towel around my waist.

“Uh, sorry,” I said lamely.

“You’re fine,” she said with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks. Woke up early, though.”

“You’re still on Eastern time.”

“Yeah. Danny too. So we went for a run and then watched the sunrise.”

She was about to say something else when the pre-teen girls streamed into the kitchen, all still in their pajamas. None of them seemed the least bit bothered at how I was dressed.

“Good morning, Grandma,” Virginia said. “Can we help with breakfast?”

“Of course, dears!” Anne gave me a smile and turned her attention to the girls. “I know… let’s make cinnamon rolls.” She gathered them at the counter and started taking down ingredients.

I went out to the porch and made up my cot. Danny returned from his own shower, and I asked about the dress code.

“We’re pretty laid-back,” he said. “Jeans are fine. Chinos. Whatever.”

He was in a good mood after his run, so he told me about his plan to ask Sabrina to marry him. He was so naturally likable that I found myself getting excited too.

We eventually decided to head inside, where we discovered a whirlwind of food and family. In addition to the cinnamon rolls, the girls were making fresh orange juice, a couple of pounds of sausage, and a huge hash brown casserole. Anne was directing it all, with Christy and Sabrina helping the younger girls, while Lynne was busy with a skillet of scrambled eggs.

I asked what I could help with, but Anne told me to go into the dining room. Harold was there with coffee and the newspaper. He was wearing pinstriped pajamas under a navy blue robe with “Granddad” embroidered in gold thread on the breast.

“Morning, Pop,” Danny said.

“Morning, Danny.” He glanced over his reading glasses at me. “Morning, Paul. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, sir. Thanks.”

“Good to hear. Coffee’s on the buffet,” he said with a nod.

Danny picked up a cup and saucer and held them out to me.

“No thanks.” I sat down and tried not to fidget with nothing to do.

Harold noticed out of the corner of his eye. He folded the main section of his newspaper and slid it across to me. Then he found the sports pages and pulled them out.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. And you can probably dispense with the ‘sirs.’ You made your point.”

Danny grinned at me and sat down with his coffee.

“Navy plays Army tomorrow at the Rose Bowl,” Harold said as he opened the sports section. “Are you a football fan?”

We made small talk until Sabrina brought in glasses of orange juice. Jim joined us a minute later. Rich and Terry arrived as well, fresh from the shower.

I felt a bit guilty that the women were all working in the kitchen and we were relaxing with coffee, juice, and the newspaper. A snarky part of me wondered if women’s lib had bypassed the Carmichael clan, but I kept my mouth shut.

Virginia and Amber trooped in with platters of food, followed by the other girls and two boys I hadn’t met yet. The younger boy, John, hopped into Harold’s lap. His older brother, Steven, set down a tray of sausage and returned to the kitchen.

The women joined us a minute later with the rest of breakfast. The dining room table could seat twelve, but the older girls and Steven headed back to the kitchen and the table there. Grace climbed into her father’s lap. She was seven but looked younger because she was so small.

Christy leaned toward me. “My mom says she looks just like me when I was her age.”

“I can imagine.”

We passed plates and loaded them from whatever platter was nearest. The conversation picked up as we began eating.

The stereotype in my head was that the Admiral would run breakfast like a staff meeting, asking individual family members for reports or situation updates. The reality was far more endearing.

Harold pushed his scrambled eggs and hash browns into small mounds and cut up several sausage links. Then he made a game of feeding his grandson by racing the sausage pieces through the valleys and over the mounds. Sometimes the sausage-racer “crashed,” so they had to demolish a mound and eat it too.

Anne, Lynne, and Sabrina discussed the menu for Thanksgiving dinner. Danny and Terry talked about The Right Stuff. Rich held Grace on his lap and pulled apart cinnamon rolls to feed her pieces while he talked to Jim. She looked like a little blonde bird, and they ate a half-dozen rolls between them.

I sat back and people-watched until I realize that Christy was doing the same to me. She smiled ear-to-ear when I looked at her.

“All right,” I said as though it was a grudging admission, “they’re pretty awesome.”

She beamed. “I knew you’d love them.”

I caught Anne looking at us. She nodded once and then returned her attention to Lynne and Sabrina.

A part of me had been worried that I’d stand out or be the center of attention (or worse). But they more or less ignored me. No, that wasn’t true. They treated me like I was already part of the family.

Harry and Marianne arrived a little after ten, and I briefly saw their youngest, a four-year-old boy named Hal (Harold III on his birth certificate). After quick hugs for his grandparents, he ran back outside to play with John and Grace.

Harry was another good-looking Carmichael, basically a younger version of his father, albeit with the deeper blue of his mother’s eyes. He shook my hand and greeted me politely. Marianne looked a lot like Lynne. The women shared their mother-in-law’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but they were both several inches taller. And where Lynne tended to fade into the background, Marianne had the old-money charm and personality to match Anne’s. She smiled and gave me a welcoming hug.

“We’re so glad to meet you,” she said. “How do you like San Diego?”

“It’s nice,” I said. “The weather especially. It’s usually cold and rainy this time of year in Knoxville.”

“Oh, I know. I’m from back East too. Baltimore. Is this your first time in California?”

“He was born here,” Christy said.

“In San Diego?”

“Yeah. My uncle was stationed here,” I explained, “and my parents were visiting.”

“Oh, that’s right!” she said. “Birdy said your father was in the Navy. He flew jets, right?”

“Mmm hmm. A-4s. My uncle flew fighters, F-4s.”

“That’s what Harry started in. Then he transitioned to the F-14, so now we’re stationed here, at Miramar. But tell me more about you. Your father works for the airlines now, doesn’t he? And you grew up in Atlanta?”

I told her about myself for a few minutes, until Anne sensed a lull in the conversation.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But we should get to work in the kitchen.”

“Duty calls,” Marianne said to me with a smile.

“Christine, dear,” her mother said, “run and find Virginia and Amber. They can help too.”

Christy lingered and gave me a kiss after the other women had left. Then she grinned and dashed off to find her nieces.

I thought the men would watch television or play football or do something typically manly (since the women were off doing “womanly” things in the kitchen), but they surprised me. They cleared the dining room table and began shuffling cards.

“Ever played Rummy?” Danny asked Terry and me.

“Sure, of course.”

Terry nodded.

“All right,” Danny said. “The game is Florida Rummy…”

He explained the rules. It seemed simple enough, basically a variant of the game I already knew, but with several rounds that had different requirements to lay down. The Carmichaels took the game to a near-religious level of intensity. Danny explained that they played at every big family get-together and kept track of wins and losses like other families remembered birthdays and anniversaries.

The game was actually a lot more complicated than I realized, especially since the goal changed every round. But I surprised everyone, myself included, when I won the first game. I’d had a stupendous amount of luck with my draws, but I also had a good memory for what cards people were picking up and discarding. The Carmichaels collectively groaned when Jim read out the scores and mine was highest.

“Birdy!” Danny shouted toward the kitchen. “Come in here!”

She stuck her head around the door and looked at us, wide-eyed and more than a little anxious.

“You brought us a ringer, didn’t you?” he accused. “Did you teach him how to play?”

“No, I swear! Why? What happened?”

“He won,” Jim said flatly. He may have been laid-back normally, but he took his cards as seriously as everyone else in the family.

“He did?” Her eyes went wider still. “He did!” She turned and almost shouted into the kitchen, “Mom! Paul won! Florida!”

Anne appeared a moment later, followed by the other women.

“He won all right,” Harold said to their surprised expressions.

Anne’s grin was almost as delighted as Christy’s.

Harry groused, “No thanks to you, Dad. You fed him practically every card he laid down!”

“How was I supposed to know he was sandbagging us?”

“He probably cheated,” Rich said, although he wasn’t serious.

Harold shook his head in disbelief. Then he glared at Jim. “I’d’ve won if you hadn’t been so stingy with those eights last round.”

“I needed ’em too. It’s your own fault you were trying for middle runs.”

The conversation devolved into blame and mostly friendly accusations.

Christy looked at me like I’d just won the Pritzker Prize. Anne congratulated me with a smile and then gently herded the women back into the kitchen.

“All right, can the chatter,” Harold said at last. “Let’s see if he can do it again. Danny, shuffle and deal.” He looked at me with a mixture of amusement and genuine rivalry. “I have my eye on you now.”

We spent the next several hours playing, and I didn’t score higher than fourth. Harold won the second game and Rich the third. They analyzed and relived each game, although never with any real anger.

“Must’ve been beginner’s luck,” Danny said to me as he shuffled for the next game.

“I dunno,” his oldest brother mused. “He never laid down anything you could use.”

“He never had anything I needed.”

“No,” I said, “I was holding a four and a seven in that last round. Your dad never gave me anything, so I kept drawing. I held on to the diamonds since that’s what you were picking up.”

“In your face,” Jim taunted his brother.

Danny gave me a pained look. “And I was so nice to you.”

“Sorry. I play to win.”

“Evidently,” he grumbled, although he definitely approved.

Anne stuck her head out of the kitchen. She surveyed the table and saw that we were between games.

“We’ll be ready to eat in about forty-five minutes,” she said.

“All right, gentlemen,” Harold said, “secure the cards.”

“Danny,” Anne said, “will you and Paul set the table? Rich, you and Terry can fold the napkins and bring the centerpieces in from the family room. Harry, bring the dessert trolley in from the garage, please. James, will you decant the wine and set out the whiskey on the drinks tray? Steven, you come with me and help set the kids’ table.”

That was a preview of Family Ties. To read the rest purchase the book.

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