Mitchell snorted. Gerry was Jenn's husband, a software designer who made serious money. They lived in Northern California in an 8,000-square-foot multimillion-dollar home. Despite his keen business sense and remarkable work ethic, Gerry obviously still liked his toys, big boy and little boy. "So where is the geek?" Mitchell asked. "I'll have him arrested for attempted murder."

"Shut up, you idiot. Hey, everybody! Scott's here!"

He followed her into the kitchen, where, as he had expected, Tommy and Nicholas were seated at the long bar nursing beers while watching a Buckeyes game on Dad's little thirteen-inch TV because Dad had the new plasma screen mounted in his bedroom.

Nicholas, who was now sporting a pair of trendy, plastic-framed glasses, had earned his undergraduate and graduate degrees in mechanical engineering and had secured a tenure-track teaching position at the University of Central Florida.

Tommy was no good with the books and had always worked with his hands. For a while, he and Mitchell had both worked as assistants at the same auto repair shop in Youngstown, one now called Mitchell's Auto Body and Repair and owned by Tommy himself.

"Ten-hut," shouted Nicholas, who was second oldest behind Mitchell. "Knucklehead on deck!"

Mitchell came around the bar and gave his brother a firm handshake and what they liked to call a "man hug," not too close, buddy. "And there he is," Mitchell began as Tommy, just thirty-one years old, rose and offered his hand. "The last American bachelor and grease monkey."

"That was never me," said Tommy, giving him a slap on the back. "That's you."

"I married the army."

"Well, I have to tell you, Scott, my wife-to-be is a whole lot prettier than yours."

"Yep, lured away into the world of diapers and mini-vans, and all it took was a woman who'd actually have sex with you!" Mitchell slapped Tommy's newly soft gut.

That drew a big laugh from Nicholas and Jenn as Tommy frowned and shook his head. "Get a haircut," was all he could say; then he returned to the game.

Mitchell's hair was high and tight, as always. "Where's Dad?" he asked Jenn.

"He's out back in the shop."

"Hey, what time do we have to be there tomorrow?"

Tommy snorted, interrupting Jenn. "Why do you ask? You got plans? Too busy to see your brother get married?"

"If you want to know the truth, it was pretty hard to fit you into my schedule . . ." Mitchell's tone softened. "But I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Well, best man, you need to be at the church by eight thirty."

"Oh eight thirty. I'll be there. So you didn't tell me where Gerry is. And where's Angela?" he asked, the latter being Nicholas's wife of five years, also a scholar who refused to answer questions about when they were having kids.

"Angela's cooking, so they went to get stuff for dinner while we waited for you. We're having pot roast."

"I thought you were vegan."