Jake finished clearing his desk and headed out of his office. He was in need of a good meal and a warm bed, and in that order. He went to one of his favorite Italian eateries near his home and was enjoying a beer while waiting for his order when his phone rang.

“What’s up, big bro?”

Harold McDonald was Jake’s oldest brother by seven years. Jake looked up to this military man, who’d joined the Navy right out of high school, as a second father. Though Harold was out of the house before Jake reached junior high, he’d always made time to keep in contact with his younger brother, even corresponding regularly while on the ship. He’d retired five years ago and settled near their mother and childhood home with his wife, Mary. Their four children, two boys and two girls, were all grown and living in various parts of the country. After having the first child when barely out of their teens, Harold and Mary were now living their dream of being home alone.

“Hey there, Jake. How goes it, brother?”

“Fine, man, I can’t complain.”

“Even though I took your money and won’t give it back?”

“Yeah, whatever, man. Rub it in.” Jake laughed at how Harold still gloated over his team’s victory. “I called the house last week, and your cell. Where have y’all been?”

“Sorry about that, man. My wife has me gallivanting all over the place. I’d totally forgotten that our oldest gifted us with a cruise to the Bahamas. We just got back yesterday, and after her one-hour conversation about trying to run our baby daughter’s life, I think we’re going to get another trip gifted real soon.”

“Ha! At least something good came from her meddling. Women can be a handful sometimes.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience, Jake.”

Jake didn’t respond. There’s no way Harold would know what he was going through. Mary had been a stay-at-home mom throughout their marriage—content to rule the roost with an iron fist clad in a velvet glove.

“That LA filly giving you the blues?”

Jake laughed. Harold had been extremely close to their grandfather, Thomas, the only McDonald man who’d made it into his eighties, at least that Jake knew of. Harold’s speech was often peppered with Thomas-inspired descriptions mined straight from Alabama. Calling a woman a “fine filly” was one of them. “I’m holding my own, Harold,” he finally answered good-naturedly.

“Just checking,” Harold replied. “You’re the only one of us not married, so you know we won’t rest until you’re as miserable as the rest of us.”