Ben shrugs and takes a sip of wine. “Fine.”
She smiles.
Knowing Ben, he won’t drink any more than the glass, and it’ll be worn off by the time we’d leave, but I can tell Loraine wants us to stay. I feel bad. Her kids are grown and gone, and while Jacob and his family live nearby, they’re usually busy. She substitutes at the local high school some to pass the time, but I know she gets lonely.
“This is delicious, Loraine,” I say, taking a bite of homemade macaroni and cheese.
“Thank you.” She smiles.
“How’s it goin’ at the hospital?” Jacob asks Ben around a mouthful of food.
“Manners.” His wife, Melinda, smacks him softly in the arm. “You’re worse than our children.”
Jacob makes a dramatic show of swallowing his food and smiles at her. “Better?”
She nods, and I can tell she’s trying not to smile.
“It’s good,” Ben answers him, bringing a bite of turkey to his mouth.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Jacob shakes his head.
Ben shrugs. “It’s my passion. I like helping people.”
Jacob grins and shakes his head. “You’re something else, Ben.”
“Hey, Mr. Big Shot Lawyer, look who’s talking.”
Jacob chuckles. “True.”
Melinda turns to me. “One of my friends has a baby shower coming up, I told her you’re the best party planner around, so I’m sure she’ll contact you soon.”
“That would be great.” I nod. “I can give you some of my business cards too.”
“Oh, that would be perfect,” she replies.
Bella and Jackson begin to argue over a roll and Melinda sighs before interjecting and breaking up their fight.
I smile despite their bickering. I’m happy here, with Ben and his family. It feels like home.
The house grows quiet without Jacob and his family there.
Thanksgiving was a raging success, even if the pie was from Wal-Mart.
Loraine flicks off the hall light, and Ben and I look up from where we rest on the couch.
“I’m going to bed,” she says, her hand on the railing of the steps. “I’m exhausted.”
Ben yawns and rubs my shoulder. “I think we’re going to head up soon, too, Mom. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” I echo.
“Night,” she says and we watch as she goes upstairs.
I lean into Ben and he wraps his arm around me. The light from the TV screen flickers across us. An antique Corvette appears on the screen and a bunch of old guys begin bidding. My eyes widen with the increasing price. When the car is sold for over seventy-five thousand, my mouth drops open.
“For a car,” I cry incredulously. “That’s practically a down payment on a house.”
Ben chuckles and his thumb rubs soothing circles against my arm. “It’s a collector’s item, babe.”