Alan watched his sons, sitting in the living room, watching the Yankees and Red Sox and arguing good-naturedly. The three of them were avoiding the big topic of the day. Today was their second motherless Mother's Day together since Margaret had died. She would have been thrilled to see her two boys these days. After they had graduated from high school, their lives had taken them in different directions. Then, finally, when her illness brought them together again physically, their differing reactions to that awful time seemed to have driven an even bigger wedge between them. Now, the tense moments were few and far between, and days like today were becoming the norm. The inning ended, and Alan went to the kitchen to make some nachos.

A moment later, Don joined him. "Hey, Dad, how you doing?"

"Good. How about you?"

"Okay," his voice trailed off, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to continue.

"That's good. Want some nachos?"

"Yeah, that sounds great." Don grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and went back to the living room.

Alan felt bad for cutting Don off like that. But he just really didn't feel like talking about it. Then he caught himself. About what? And why didn't he want to talk about it?

Charlie's voice dragged him out of his reverie. "All right! Big Poppa's making nachos. Can I give you a hand?"

"Nah. I've got it. Why don't you take in some plates and napkins?"

"Sure." Charlie grabbed a beer, three plates and a handful of paper napkins and headed back to the living room.

Alan went through the steps of making nachos, mechanically, and he pondered the reason for his dark mood. He missed Margaret, sure. Maybe not as constantly and painfully as he had last year, but there were still times, like this, when he really felt her absence. He knew his sons missed her. He knew Charlie felt guilty about the way he withdrew from the family during those painful last months of her life. He knew Don still harbored some resentment of Charlie, though he was getting over it a little more every day.

But he wondered if it would be helpful to stir up all those old feelings. Now that they were finally growing closer as a family, what would it do to their still fragile relationship?

He put the finishing touches on the nachos and carried the plate into the living room.

"All right!" Don said as he took a handful of heavily loaded chips from the plate.

"You rule, Dad!" Charlie said, nudging his way past Don. "Hey, big bro, don't take 'em all!"

"Now, boys!" Alan said with a chuckle.

Charlie glanced at Alan. "You sound just like Mom." Then he noticed the deafening silence that greeted his offhand remark. "What? You do!"

Don scowled at his little brother. "Charlie..." he said softly.

"What? We're not allowed to talk about her? Especially today? What's Mother's Day if we can't remember the most important person in all of our lives?"

Don seemed to relax. "You're right. Hey, Dad, do you remember the day Charlie flew down the stairs in his Superman Underoos while Mom was in the middle of some big meeting with all those ladies? I thought she was going to kill him!"

Charlie nudged Don, grinning, "Little did she know YOU had put me up to it."

Alan laughed, feeling his dark mood lifting "She was so anxious to impress those ladies, and she had lectured the two of you over and over about staying in your rooms, staying quiet, waiting until she came upstairs and gave you the all-clear. But when Charlie appeared, that all went out the window. She told me later the hardest thing she ever did was keeping a straight face when she punished the two of you. She just wanted to laugh out loud. When she finished telling me about it, we laughed until we cried."

"Well, she did a good job," Charlie said, pouting a little. "I think we behaved for a whole week after that."

"Nah," Don said with a chuckle. "I behaved for a week. You went back to being your dorky self the next day."

"That's not exactly the way I remember it. I seem to remember that you convinced me to write my name on the bathroom wall the very next day."

Alan shook his head. "But whose idea was it to use the big, fat black Magic Marker?"

Charlie hung his head. "Mine. I wanted her to see how my penmanship had improved."

The sound of a bat connecting solidly with a ball drew the attention of all three men back to the game they were supposed to be watching. They stared, dumbstruck, as Derek Jeter's hit flew into the black in the bleachers at Yankee Stadium. Don was the first to speak, "Was that a grand slam?"

"I think so."

They camera showed Jeter's mother, jumping and cheering for her son as he rounded the bases. Then her husband wrapped her in a huge hug and kissed her. The announcer said, choking a little, "Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Jeter."

The three Eppes men lifted their beers in a toast. Don said softly, "Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Jeter."

Alan added, "And Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Eppes!"