“You have a little fish egg on your chin.” Merilee reached forward with a long pink nail and flicked at Ellen’s face. “Got it.”

Rita and Marge’s giggles snapped Merilee’s head around.

“Caviar,” Sidney whispered.

“What?” Merilee felt queasy. Something wasn’t sitting right. Maybe it was those skewers or the mushrooms with the stuffing.

“It’s called caviar.”

“Well, sorreee. It’s still fish eggs,” Merilee snapped, defensive. “I used to use them as bait. I don’t know how you people can even think of eating the stuff. I get nauseous just thinking about it.”

“Merilee’s pregnant,” Sidney said weakly.

“You certainly can’t tell,” Dave Sanderson marveled until he felt the spike of Rita’s heel drill through his shoe.

“I think I’m gonna’ barf,” Merilee announced. Dropping her carrots, she ran for the bathroom.

INT. MALIBU COLONY HOUSE,

EVENING

NOVEMBER 1968

Sidney removed his shoes at the front door and tiptoed through the living room, praying his wife was asleep and he could dine in peace. Instead, he found her at the kitchen table, bare legs stretched out, wearing one of his pajama tops that scarcely buttoned over her expanding belly.

“How was your day?” she asked, patting the chair next to her.

There was a seductive slur to Merilee’s voice that he might have found attractive if he hadn’t also noticed the half-empty wine bottle on the kitchen table. Stomach grumbling, he eyed the covered casserole on top of the oven. Thank God Vi hadn’t quit.

“Can I make you some tea?” Sidney asked, trying inconspicuously to move the bottle of wine from her reach.

“Aren’t you going to ask about my day?” Merilee leaned back in her chair precariously. “Or maybe you don’t care what I do.”

“Hey, stop that.” My father jumped up and righted the chair.

Merilee laughed and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Not funny,” Sidney muttered. He went to the dish drain, picked out a fork and knife, and took a deep breath. “So, what did you do today, Merilee?”

“Sid, how come we never use the dining room? Huh? It’s so fancy, and we can cozy up at one end of the table and watch the waves.”

“It’s just easier in here. Besides, didn’t you eat already?” Sidney asked hopefully.

“Nuh-uh. Couldn’t stomach it. C’mon,” she whined, “let’s move into the dining room.” She reached for the bottle, but Sidney pushed it farther away.

“Give that back,” Merilee growled.

“Okay, sounds like bedtime for you,” Sidney spoke as equably as possible. He couldn’t wait to see what Vi had cooked. It smelled like meatloaf and potatoes.