It was weird, seeing all these kids sitting quietly with their parents or playing games with other children. Not a single one of them had a cell phone or tablet to fiddle with. No one wore T-shirts featuring WWE or "ironic" rock bands or some stupid, funny-for-half-a-minute meme. No swearing or whining or bitching at their parents. Almost as if these kids were blissfully unaware the possibilities existed.

"I used to have curls just like that," Sheila said.

"Oh yeah? I wish I knew you back then."

She turned to him with slight surprise. Then she smiled. "You wouldn't have liked me. I was a bit of a know-it-all."

"Kids called me Smartypants Marty at that age. Sounds like we would've been peas in a pod."

"I wonder how our lives would have turned out, if we'd met each other when we were kids instead of through him?"

The name didn't need to be said. They both knew exactly who she was talking about.

"We wouldn't be sitting here. Eating this terrific meal."

"Likely not."

They sat in silence a moment, until Sheila broke it. From the hasty way the words spilled out it seemed like she'd been thinking about it for some time.

"Do you ever wish you could go back, change the way we ended things?"

This time Martin was caught by surprise. "I wish I could take back what I did. Of course, I do, Sheila. But would it have changed at all? If anything, it probably would've just taken us longer to self-destruct."

She nodded, thoughtful. "You're probably right."

He grinned. "That's a lot of probablys."

"Isn't that what life is? Probablys? Maybes? I don't know about you, but I haven't seen a lot of definitelys lately."

He grinned. "You're definitely a little drunk."

"Yeah, that is a definite." She handed him her empty wine glass and set her plate down on the step behind her. "Keep an eye on this, huh? I'm gonna go use the little girls' room."

She got to her feet a little wobbly, her face so close to his for a moment he thought she might try to kiss him. But she stood before he could—reciprocate? initiate?—and sashayed drunkenly up the stairs.

He watched her until he realized people might be watching him watch her, then he turned away, pretended to be looking at the family photos on the stairwell wall.

From the living room, Sinjin caught his eye and mouthed, You okay?

Martin raised his beer and gave the man a thumbs up. Sinjin nodded in reply, but he looked troubled. A moment later, Martin discovered why.

Once again, Sinjin tapped his glass until everyone quieted down. "Folks, I know we're all here for a celebration, but something's been on my mind and I just have to say it."

Laura looked back at him, in the midst of a hushed group conversation, a slight scowl flashing over her rosy features.

"As many of you may already know, one of our own passed away last night," he continued, despite his wife's disapproval. "Her name was Nadine Hinkley."