The sound of laughter drifted through the floor vent and up to the bed where Tami lay sleeping, startling her awake. She could hear, between the guffaws and chuckles, a strange clacking. She glanced at the clock, which glowed 2 AM.

Naked, Tami slid out of bed and pulled on some flannel PJs before making her way to the top of the basement stairs. They'd never had basements in Texas, and she'd found it a convenient place to send Eric when he was driving her crazy. It was at once his office and his man cave, but also her storage room. The door was open, and, from the top of the stairs, she could see the glow of one of the two dangling basement bulbs. She took a few more steps down and found Eric and Nate, in thick sweatshirts, playing ping pong. The basement was ten degrees colder than the rest of the house.

"Oh, damn!" yelled Eric, running for a loose ball he'd just missed and plucking it from the floor. "You told me you didn't play any sports!"

"I didn't know you considered ping pong a sport," Nate said.

"It's an Olympic event, son." Eric lined up the ball to serve.

"It's not your serve," Nate told him.

"House rules," Eric insisted, and smacked the ball over. With a loud crack, Nate hit it back. The ball slammed almost soundlessly against Eric's chest, because he'd just noticed Tami, who had by now made her way almost to the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, babe," he said. "We're playing ping pong."

"I can see that, sugar, but could you maybe keep it down a little? It's two in the morning. Y'all are gonna wake Gracie. And I don't want to have to get her back to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am," Nate said. "We'll quiet right down."

"Since you're up, babe," Eric said, "is there any of that turkey leftover, or did you put than in the freezer already?"

"I am not making you a turkey sandwich at two in the morning. I don't know what is with you and middle-of-the-night ping pong and expecting sandwiches." She began to clump back up the stairs.

She heard Nate practically giggling. "You're gonna be in hot water tomorrow."

"Nah. One of the ten thousand fantastic things about my wife is that she never stays mad for long. Not over petty things."

Tami shook her head, but she smiled. Eric was going to be groggy in the morning, but, right now, he was playing with his son. "Oh, hell, I'll bring y'all a couple of beers at least,' she hollered down over her shoulder.

"And some pecan pie?" Eric called back.

"Don't push your luck," Nate warned him.

[*]

When the sun streamed through the window the next morning, Tami ventured out of the bedroom and found Nate and Gracie sitting on the living room floor, a Monopoly game spread out across the coffee table. Tami settled into Eric's recliner and yawned.

"There's a few pancakes left if you want them," Nate told her. "And coffee still in the pot."

"Nate, honey, what are you doing up this early? Y'all were up awfully late."

"Well, giggling Gracie here did a backflip on my bed at seven this morning, and I figured I'd better get up and entertain her."

"Gracie!" Tami scolded.

"It's fine, Mrs. Taylor," Nate said, and then pointed to Marvin Gardens, "You're not going to buy that?"

"I told you!" Gracie insisted. "I'm saving all my money."

"Well, my little miser, you know, you've got to spend money to make money."

Gracie seemed to consider this. "I'll buy that one when I land on it." She pointed to Mediterranean. "It's not so much."

Nate shook his head. "You don't want to be a slum lord, Gracie Belle. Trust me."

"So I wait for these?" Gracie asked, pointing to Boardwalk.

"Not necessarily. Luxury investments pay well, but they require extreme investment." He pointed to Marvin Gardens. "The upper-middle class is the best class to target."

Tami laughed, shook her head, and went to get a cup of coffee. After reading some of the paper (Eric was still old fashioned enough to subscribe to a print edition), draining her cup, and taking a shower, she returned to the recliner and discovered that Gracie now had all of the yellow properties and three houses on each one.

"I'm building a nahtourall monolopoly, Mom," Gracie said.

"A what?"

Nate bent and whispered in her ear.

"Natural monopoly," Gracie corrected herself. "It's not a state monopoly. So it's not as in-ee-fish-int!"

Tami raised an eyebrow. "Nate, please tell me when you volunteered to read to her last night, you did not read her Ayn Rand."

He laughed. "No, we took turns reading Dr. Seuss. The Lorax. But I did explain how unrealistic it was."

"Because there's no such thing as magical creatures who speak for the trees?" Tami asked.

"No," Nate said, "because it doesn't make any sense for a business man to cut down all those trufula trees without steadily replanting them. They were such a highly profitable and easily renewable commodity. It just wasn't a rational business choice."

"Oh, good Lord." Tami smiled. She felt a hand fall on her shoulder and jumped a little. She looked back to see a sleepy Eric, hair matted, in his sweats and t-shirt. She craned back her neck so he could kiss her good morning.

Nate glanced at his watch. "Why don't we call it a draw?" he asked Gracie. "I've got a flight to catch. I need to pack up."

"What's a draw?" Gracie asked.

"Like a tie. No one wins," Nate says.

"Someone has to win," Gracie insisted.

"She's your daughter all right," Nate said to Eric as he pulled himself up from the floor.

"Or your sister," Coach Taylor shot back with a smile.

[*]

"Don't put those slippers in the closet! I need those slippers!" Grandma Saracen insisted.

"Grandma," Julie said, "You already have slippers on."

She looked down at her feet. "Well, I didn't put those on." She rocked peevishly in her chair.

"And you tripped over that pair last night," Matt reminded her. "Could have broken a hip."

"Oh, Lord, Matthew. I break one little hip and suddenly you're concerned. Not concerned enough to come see us on the Lord's birthday, though, are you? Going to see Coach Taylor instead." She tsked. "Now I love that man. He's a handsome man, but he never would eat my pie. Always saying no, thank you, ma'am. At least he was polite. But why are you going to see your coach for Christmas?"

"He's my father-in-law, Grandma. Julie's my wife now. You went to the wedding."

"Not seeing your own grandmother on the Lord's own birthday…"

"Loraine, Matt came down for Thanksgiving," Shelby reminded her while gathering and stacking an array of magazines. If it weren't for Shelby's care, Julie thought, Grandma might have ended up on Hoarders. "He came all the way from Chicago, and he was here all of yesterday, and he'll be here all of today."

"Chicago! What on earth is a Texas boy like you doing in Chicago!"

"I went to art school there, Grandma, remember?"

"Art?"

"I'm one of the managers for the gallery now. And I sell some of my own art." He pointed to the painting hanging to the left of the hutch behind her worn, comfortable rocker. "I painted that, remember?"

Grandma Saracen looked behind herself. She jumped a little. The chair rocked. "Why, that's good, Matthew! That's very good!" She turned to Shelby, "Did you know my grandson was so talented?"

"I did."

"Draw me something," Grandma Saracen insisted.

"Right now?" Matt asked.

"We have pencils." She looked all around herself. "Shelby, why are you always hiding my pencils?"

"I think I'm going to take a little walk, get some fresh air," Julie said, and slipped out of the house before Matt could shoot her a pleading, puppy dog, please-stay look.

It smelled like fall, but it felt warm to Julie, after adjusting to Chicago. She didn't even take a coat with her, as she would have in her Texas days. She walked with her hands in the pockets of her jeans, down the flat street, past browning grass, little boys playing football in the street, tires hung from trees, soccer practice goals, loose baseball bats lying in yards, and cars on blocks. She didn't miss small town Texas, not really, but she missed the simplicity of her youth.

After a while, she wanted a park bench to sit and rest, but this wasn't Chicago. So she sat on the curb and thought about walking back, borrowing Shelby's car, and going to visit Tyra, if Tyra was even home for Thanksgiving. If not, she could visit Landry. He came home for every holiday, always the dutiful son, and with no girlfriend to pull him to another destination.

Julie fished out her cell phone. Her last text exchange with Tyra was dated four months ago. Even worse, her last text exchange with her high school best friend, Lois, was dated five months ago. Life moved on. Old friends drifted away.

In town? Julie texted.

A few seconds later, Tyra replied, Chicago? No, why?

Dillon.

God no. I'm in Dallas.

Why Dallas?

Seeing a guy. And checking out TCU. Might apply for an MSW program.

MSW? Julie texted.

Julie's phone rang. When she answered, Tyra said, "Master's in Social Work. I love that you asked about the degree instead of the guy. My mom or sister would have asked about the guy."

"So who is the guy? Anyone serious?"

"Someone hot. No one serious. I don't have time for serious. Not if I'm going to pay TCU tuition."

"Don't worry. You'll get a scholarship, Ms. magna cum laude."

"Thanks. How's Matt?"

"Good. Sold a painting."

"How's Tim?"

"How would I know?" Julie asked.

"You're in Dillon."

"Matt and I might go by the bar later today and say hi to him. After a day with Grandma, Matt's going to need a drink."

"Matt's a saint. But Tim's not tending bar anymore. He got his master carpenter certification. He's doing that full-time now."

"Then why are you asking ME about him?"

"I just want you to tell me if he cut his hair like he threatened to the last time I was home."

"Are you two still hooking up?" Julie asked.

"Just when I'm in town."

"You've got to let that go, Tyra."

"Why? He's great in bed. We're both adults. No one is getting hurt."

"He doesn't have a girlfriend?" Julie asked.

"If he does, that's not my problem."

"But it's not nice to her."

"It's not like I'm having an affair with a married man."

Julie tensed. She wondered what Trya would think of her father, if she knew about Nate. "Okay. It's your life."

"How's Landry?" Tyra asked.

Landry never asked how Tyra was. The two had never made any kind of amends. Julie thought they might, if Tyra would just call and apologize for the way she had once treated them. They might even be friends. But it was hard, Julie thought, for anyone to be friends with Tyra. "He's taking a year off to tour with his band before going to law school."

"Seriously?"

"They aren't that bad. You should look them up on Youtube. The Communion."

"Well, if he makes it to Dallas or Houston or Austin, maybe I'll go see a show."

"Just don't break his heart again."

"I don't break hearts anymore. I'm trying to learn how to put them back together."

They said their farewells, and Julie returned to the house and asked to borrow Shelby's car. Matt was going to be stuck playing Parcheesi with Grandma. Julie kissed his ear and whispered, "You're a good grandson. It's sexy. I can't wait to screw you later."

That at least left him with a huge grin when the screen door swayed shut behind her.

[*]

"How's your brother?" Landry asked as he slid a slice of pumpkin pie across the table to Julie and sat down in the chair opposite her. His dad was apparently at work, and his mother was watching T.V. in the living room.

"He's at my – our – dad's for Thanksgiving. Well, I guess he's flying to L.A. by now. For business."

"Does your Dad know he's gay?"

"What?"

"I'm just trying to picture Coach Taylor reacting to his son being gay. I bet it would be hilarious."

"What makes you think he's gay?"

"Oh," Landry said, looking at her with a hand resting on either of his legs. "I just assumed you knew."

"How do you know? Do you even know?"

"I asked him. When we shared that hotel room. Because he kept looking at me. I mean, I know I'm impossible for girls to resist, but…"

"And what did he say?"

"He said, You're not my type."

"So, a joke. That hardly means he's gay."

"Then I woke up in the middle of the night because he was talking on the phone to his boyfriend. Some guy in L.A. Basketball player, from the sound of it."

"So his assistant is not his boyfriend! Matt was wrong!"

"What?"

"We have a little bet going. Matt just lost. He bet Nate was gay and that his assistant Joshua was his boyfriend."

"Well, Nate is gay. So it sounds to me like Matt just won."

"You always take Matt's side, don't you?"

Landry smiled. "Bros before hos."

Julie lifted her pie-coated fork. "Watch out I don't stick this in your eye."

"And who knows, he could have two boyfriends. Or three. Or four. Joshua might just be one of them."

"I doubt that very much. He said he doesn't do casual sex."

"Maybe it's not casual. Maybe he loves them all. Deeply, madly, passionately."

"Maybe you're an idiot."

Landry laughed. "Maybe I am. Maybe I should have gone straight to law school. I haven't saved a dime on this bar tour. All of our earnings have gone to living and band expenses, and my parents are pissed I didn't go straight to law school. They're saying they won't help me at all with the tuition now when I do go."

"Can't you get a scholarship?"

"Sure, if I go second tier. Not if I go to Harvard."

"Just go to UT-Austin. Get in-state tuition. It's in the top twenty for law schools, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but I'm a top-10 kind of guy."

"You're a top-10 something." She smiled and took another bite of pie.