Page 62 of Take Two

“I’ll help Charlie get dinner on the table while you guys enjoy the appetizers.”

I don’t regret my decision to not drink anymore, but something strong would take the edge off right about now. My mom is standing at the kitchen island. She’s looking at my father with daggers in her eyes. Terri busies herself making sure the table is perfect.

Charlie is humming while he puts the food on serving platters. My job is to take the platters from him and bring them to the table.

“So, Charlie, Violet tells me you’re that Colt Chastain’s brother,” my mom says. I tense at that. This evening is about getting to know Charlie, not to talk about his celebrity brother, but Charlie doesn’t seem fazed.

“I am,” is all he says. “I know all his secrets,” he jokes. “He’s scared to death of spiders.” Charlie puts a finger to his lips. “You’ll never hear a man shriek as loud as him whenever he sees one. He jumped right into my lap one time.”

My mom and I both giggle at that.

“Wimp,” I whisper under my breath.

“Well, I had to look him up. I will say that you’re the handsomer of the two,” my mom says. Charlie puts down the wooden spoon, turns, and faces my mother. He picks up her free hand and kisses it.

“That’s about the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He grins so wide, his dimples show, and my mom blushes.

“Those dimples,” my mom says. She inches closer and pats his face. Charlie bends down and kisses her cheek. “Tell us more about how you two met,” my mom adds.

“Go ahead and tell her, Charlie,” my dad says with a smirk. I cringe and wait to hear what he says next. “Violet’s already told me. Wanda’s always the last to know.”

“It looks nice,” my dad says as he passes his iPad around. He pulled up the website for Charlie’s restaurant. “Mary Leigh’s. I like that name.”

I look at Charlie and mouthMama’s boy, but all he does is smile.

“I think I’ll call my next restaurant Violet’s,” he says, making my heart skip a beat. My mom practically swoons at the table and so does Terri. Despite my dad crashing this party and the tense beginning, the past hour exceeded all my expectations.

“Well, you can open one here,” my dad says. He’s now looking at his phone, and when I lean over, he’s pulled up the same website on it.

“Dad,” I say, trying to warn him to stop, but if there’s one thing my dad never does it's listen.

“Well, I don’t think I can afford Manhattan real estate. At least not yet,” Charlie jokes.

My dad waves his hand around as if Charlie’s words mean nothing. “I know a guy,” Dad says. “I can help you get financing, and I already have the perfect location in mind. How about the two of us—”

“Miles, stop putting him on the spot. Can’t we just enjoy getting to know Charlie without talk of business? Your one-track mind has always been your problem.” Mom glares at him, and so do I. I think this is the first time I’ve ever agreed with my mom over my dad.

“The only problem I’ve ever had is you,” Dad says, but he puts his phone down and says, “Fine, but we’ll talk later, Charlie. Put your phone number here.” He hands Charlie his phone.Not one to be left out, my mom does the same thing, but for once, I’m happy and relieved that she’s making such an effort.

I side-eye Terri, who’s on her fourth glass of wine and showing no signs of stopping.

“And the food is so delicious,” Mom says while putting another spoonful of mashed potatoes over her beef bourguignon. She moans after taking a forkful into her mouth. “I’ve tried making this before, but it didn’t come out like this. You’ll have to come to the house so we can make it together before you go back to Birmingham. I’d love for you to meet my husband.”

“He’s already coming over to my place for dinner,” my dad announces. “On Saturday,” he adds while giving my mom a smug look. She rolls her eyes at him, and he grins as if he just won this round.

Charlie leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’ve never been so popular.” Dinner continues with more questions about Charlie’s life and childhood. He’s the center of attention, and he answers every question asked.

Thankfully no one mentions his alcoholism, and no one questions me about not drinking. They also don’t make it awkward by offering not to drink themselves. They enjoy their wine and food while complimenting him after practically every bite.

When dinner’s done, he stands to clear the table, but I put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve done enough. Let me clear the table and get dessert. Terri, can you help me?”

She looks around as if to make sure I’m speaking to her. She stands on wobbly feet and takes serving platters to the kitchen. While our backs are turned, I whisper, “Why the hell are you drinking so much lately?”

Her eyes widen and she says, “Do you think it bothers Charlie? I’ll stop, but he said—”

“This isn’t about Charlie. This is about you. You drank three bottles of wine the other night, and you’ve just poured your fifth glass.”

“So, the only time you pay attention to me is so you can criticize my drinking?”

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