Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if the friend was female. She wanted to ask but decided she’d keep her thoughts to herself. She took a small sip. It was okay as far as wines went; she wasn’t much of a drinker, so they all tasted pretty much the same to her.

“Remember the time we took a tour of the winery at Biltmore?” Brent asked her.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I do. I think we thought we’d be allowed to drink wine all day. Being underage hadn’t even been a consideration,” she said, and recalled the weekend in her senior year of high school, when she and Brent, along with Madison and some guy she’d been dating at the time, decided to take the wine tour at the estate and see if they could get drunk for free. They hadn’t even considered that they would be asked for identification.

“Why am I just now hearing about this?” her father asked, a grin on his face.

Her mother placed the platter of sliced pot roast in the center of the table. “Let’s say grace before this gets cold.”

Saved, Lauren thought, and she bowed her head and closed her eyes while her father said the blessing. It was an unwritten rule that he always said grace, and if anyone at the table chose to add something after, he would give them the opportunity. Lauren waited for her mother or Brent to speak, and when they didn’t, she raised her head, and saw Brent staring at her. His gaze said all that he felt. She quickly focused her attention on the food. “Pass those potatoes, I’m starving,” she said.

For the next half hour, as they ate, their conversation centered around the food and her mother’s skill in the kitchen.

“I’ve made a cobbler for dessert. Apple.”

“My favorite,” Brent said.

Lauren knew that, her mother knew that, and so did her father. What was she trying to do? Keep him here all night? Dessert and coffee at the Montgomery house could last until midnight.

“I’ll pass, Mom, but save me a piece for tomorrow. I’m so full now, I’m about to bust.”

“Of course I will. Now”—her mother stood and began gathering the empty plates—“Lauren and I will get this mess cleaned up. Al, get the cards ready.”

Again, Lauren wished she hadn’t added the card invite but decided that she would play a couple of hands, then excuse herself.

Once they’d cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher, she brewed a pot of decaf and filled their cups, while her mother served dessert.

For the next hour, they played crazy eights, war, then blackjack. She yawned and decided it was time to call it a night.

“I hate to break up the party, but I’m wiped out.” She stood and gathered the dessert plates and added them to the dishwasher. “I’m calling it a night.”

Brent stood, too. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow myself. Ilene, Al, the food was terrific as usual, the company even better.” His eyes met Lauren’s as he said this. “And I hope we’ll do this again, soon.”