“Sadly, it’s true. We’ve got a problem, for sure. Not as bad as in the larger cities, such as Charlotte or Raleigh, but it’s still here. It’s not always made public, but I’ve arrested more than my share of addicts who were barely old enough to drive. ”

Lauren took the bottle of wine from the refrigerator and the corkscrew from the drawer next to the sink. She carefully inserted the corkscrew, then slowly released the cork. She probably should have allowed Brent to do the honors since he had brought the wine, but she was too enthralled as she listened to him fill her father in on the life of teenagers in the twenty-first century. Maybe this is just what he needed. A dose of reality. Show him how the world was changing. Sadly, it wasn’t the most upbeat topic, but she was glad. He needed to hear that Fallen Springs wasn’t immune to the ways of the world.

“Then why aren’t we reading about this in the paper?” In print, the Daily Banner was only a weekly publication now, yet they had a daily version online, which her father had no knowledge of since he didn’t have a computer or access to the Internet.

“The arrests are usually reported in the paper if they’re of legal age, but since many of these kids are still minors, we can’t put their names in the paper,” Brent explained.

Lauren poured wine into their glasses, curious to hear her father’s response.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. We’re a relatively small town. It’s not like New York City or Los Angeles.” Her father’s refusal even to acknowledge the sheriff’s facts was almost borderline crazy. She looked at Brent and raised her eyebrows.

“I have to disagree, Al. We’re not the small-town Fallen Springs of your generation, and I don’t mean to insult you in any way, but it’s simply a fact. We’ve had to add four new officers to our narcotics squad, and I’m hoping next year’s budget allows us to hire more. It’s an epidemic.”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, Brent,” her mother added. “I never saw any drug use when I taught school.”

“You taught second grade, Mother,” Lauren reminded her. “And you’ve been retired for a few years, remember? I’ve heard Madison talk about the drug use in high school. She’s been teaching in the system a while, so I know she’s aware of what goes on.”

Lauren hated this topic for Sunday-night dinner, but it was all true. Her parents couldn’t continue to live in their Mayberry-type bubble.

“I still find it hard to believe,” her father said, then took a sip of wine. “This is excellent, Brent. You do have good taste in wines.”

That was her father’s way of saying, enough. He was going to change the topic of conversation. End of story.

“Thanks. A friend recommended this. It’s from the winery at the Biltmore.” He swirled the dark liquid in his glass, then took a sip. “Good stuff. In moderation.”