Page 119 of Champagne Nights

“I’m sorry, Mom. Do you need any help?”

“No. Everything is done. The table is set, and as soon as I pull the bread out of the oven, we can eat before the little trick-or-treaters start to come by.”

I grabbed the bowl of spaghetti off the counter and set it on the table in the dining room.

“Hey, Paisley,” Charlotte and the gang said.

“Hey,” I said with a small smile as I kissed each family member, including soon-to-be members, on the cheek. “Dinner’s ready.”

They all got up, and we took our seats at the table. As we were passing around the spaghetti bowl, Piper asked me a question.

“So, are you going to tell us about Ben?” She smiled.

“Piper!” Keaton shouted.

“Thanks a lot, Keaton!” I said as I slapped him.

“What? I accidentally slipped and said something to Mom. She must have told everyone else.”

“Now, Paisley. Why on earth wouldn’t you tell us about your support group and Ben?”

“First of all, Mother, it isn’t my support group, and second of all, there’s nothing to tell about Ben.”

“Sure, there isn’t,” Charlotte said.

I rolled my eyes and slapped Keaton again with my napkin. “See, this is why I didn’t want you saying anything!”

“It’s Mom’s fault. Yell at her.”

“Stop it, both of you. If Paisley says there’s nothing to tell, then there’s nothing to tell. I think you all need to drop the subject right now and leave Paisley alone,” my dad interrupted. “If there’s anything to tell, she’ll tell us when she’s ready. Now, I suggest you all get eating before the kids start coming around.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I smiled.

He nodded as he winked and continued eating his dinner.

As soon as the little voices of trick-or-treaters were heard, Charlotte and Ryan stood on the porch and passed out candy. I went to the back and lit up a cigarette. As I stood out there, trying to escape the badgering of my family, my dad walked outside and stood next to me with his hands in his pockets.

“Ben, eh? So what happened to his wife?”

“Cancer,” I said as I took a puff of my cigarette and then looked at it.

“How long were they married?”

“Five years.”

“That’s a shame. Young guy?”

“Around my age.”

“Wow. So sad. You two must have been the youngest in the group.”

“We were.”

“Weird.”

“I know,” I said as I took one last puff and put out my cigarette.

He put his arm around me. “Let’s go get some dessert, and you can tell me all about this sex column I heard you’re going to be writing.”

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