Alan was driving, Charlie sitting in the front passenger seat, and I was in the middle of the back seat, watching the road roll by.
"So, what did we learn today?" Alan asked, using his best professor voice while keeping his eyes on the road.
"That we need to bring wine," I offered.
"That Gramma trusts me more than Dad. Even if the woman was, like, 30."
"No," Alan repeated, now sounding personally offended.
"I would too," Charlie muttered under his breath.
Alan turned and shot him a glare.
"That Gramma thinks she seems younger if a twelve-year-old says she's the mother... despite having two adults pushing forty standing next to her?" I continued.
"I'm thirty-six, Jake," Alan said, completely indignant.
Charlie raised an eyebrow and turned slowly toward him. "How are you thirty-six if I'm thirty-five?"
Dad and I gave Charlie identical deadpan looks.
"Anyway, about the lesson..." Alan tried again.
"Oh, now I get it. If you like someone, make sure Uncle Charlie didn't already paint their canvas before introducing them to the family."
"No... wait, that's not wrong," Alan admitted reluctantly.
Charlie just gave me a glare.
"But no," Alan said, straightening up. "What we learned, Jake, is that we need to treat others well—so they don't bite you back."
"But Uncle Charlie treated her well. Didn't you hear? He treated four people well. The problem was exclusivity."
They both gave me synchronized stares.
"Oh! Now I get another one: Uncle Charlie screws up, but other people get the bite."
Charlie gave me another long glare, this one quieter but just as sharp.
After a moment of silence, Alan unexpectedly smiled.
"What are you smiling about?" Charlie asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Just enjoying that, for once, I'm not the one at the center of Jake's sharp tongue," Alan replied.
Charlie just sighed and stared out the window.
"Don't worry," I said. "There's still plenty of ride left."
The next morning Charlie walked into the kitchen wearing his musician's league uniform, cap slightly crooked, and a scowl already on his face.
"Stupid musician's league," he said.
Alan was already at the counter with coffee. "What now?"
Charlie grabbed a banana and began pacing. "I don't know why I bother. Get this—tie score, we're down to our last out."
I sat at the table, curious. "Okay..."
"Our best hitter, Billy Kresky, is up," Charlie continued. "The bases are loaded... and so is Kresky."
"His whole family is standing behind the backstop, crying and pleading, 'Go back to rehab, Daddy, we love you!'" Charlie mimicked in a high-pitched voice.
"Needless to say, he choked."
Alan set his mug down and looked around. "Charlie, I think we've got a bigger problem."
Charlie didn't look up. "What, someone forgot to restock the beer?"
"Our mother is missing."
Charlie paused mid-bite. "Don't try to cheer me up."
"I'm serious," Alan said, his tone shifting. "I called her home, her car, her cell—nothing."
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Did you check with the captain of the flying monkeys?"
"Charlie!" Alan snapped.
Charlie shrugged. "She's probably just sulking because I screwed up her dinner party last week."
"That's what I thought too," Alan said, his voice tightening. "Except I called her office, and they haven't heard from her either."
Charlie's smirk faded. "Okay. That's weird."
"Yeah," Alan nodded. "I think somebody needs to go over there and make sure she's okay."
I raised my hand slightly. "Why don't you guys go? I'll stay here in case she calls."
Both of them turned and looked at me in unison.
Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Nice try."
Alan just sighed. "You're coming."
"Oh man," I muttered.
Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of Evelyn's house.
I looked out the window and shook my head. "Just feels like it was yesterday that we came here." I paused. "Oh yeah, it was yesterday that we came here. Thank you, Uncle Charlie."
Charlie glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "You're welcome, smartass."
"Look, there's no one here. Let's go," Charlie said as he stepped out of the car.
"No. I want to take a look," Alan replied firmly.
"You have a key?" Charlie asked.
"I'm the good son," Alan said.
"Even I have the keys," I added, pulling them from my pocket and giving them a jingle.
Alan unlocked the door. "Mom?" he called as we stepped inside.
"Okay, she's not here. Let's go," Charlie said, already turning around.
Alan flipped on the light.
Charlie froze. "Okay... she's here. Let's go."
"Charlie," Alan warned.
"Mom? Are you all right? Why haven't you been answering the phone?"
Evelyn emerged slowly from around the corner, wrapped in a silk robe and holding a glass of something suspiciously strong.
"I didn't want to burden anyone with my grief over the late Tommy Pearson," she said with dramatic flair.
"Tommy died?" Alan asked, alarmed.
"He is dead to me," Evelyn clarified coldly.
"Okay, what happened?" Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He dumped me," Evelyn said, taking a sip.
"Mom, I'm sorry," Charlie said genuinely. "But the thing between me and his daughter happened years before you met the guy."
"This has nothing to do with you, Charlie," Evelyn snapped. "God, you're a narcissist."
She sighed, then added, "No, Tommy left me for some fresh-faced forty-five-year-old bimbo."
"I'm so sorry, Gramma," I said sincerely.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Alan added.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, too" Charlie said.
Evelyn looked at me with a soft expression. "Thank you, sweetheart." Then she turned to Alan. "Thank you, Alan." Her gaze shifted to Charlie, and her tone switched to dry sarcasm. "Nice try, Charlie."
Support Link: https:///c/MHJunior [Up to 35+ advance Chapters]
Please give a Review and Powerstone if you like the novel