Free Porch Lights by Dorothea Benton Frank Page B

Charlie in such a nice way. He didn’t just dismiss him like so many adults dismiss children. I liked that.
    “Here, why don’t you let me do that so you can get Mom’s drink,” I said.
    “What? Oh, I’m sorry! Sure.” He handed me the bottle of wine and picked up a highball glass. “Did you say vodka, Annie?”
    “Gin. But I’ll have whatever you’re having. It doesn’t matter, really.”
    “Let’s both have a gin and tonic,” he said and turned back to the bar.
    “That sounds delightful!” Mom was so pleased that he wanted to have what she was having that she actually clapped her hands together in glee. I was glad he missed that. My poor mother was starved for affection. Why had I not realized this?
    “Okay, Charlie baby. We’re gonna pop this cork together. What do you say?”
    “Sure!”
    I turned the corkscrew deeply into the cork, sat in a chair, and held the bottle between my knees. “Now, I’ll hold the bottle and you hold the bar good and tight, and pull it out straight.”
    Charlie took the top of the corkscrew in hand and pushed against the bottle with his other hand, making all the appropriate noises that accompany manly exertion, and after many such grunts we had a pop!
    “Good job!” Steve said and handed Mom her drink. “Can I pour for you?”
    I passed the bottle to Steve, and he half filled a goblet.
    “None for me,” Charlie said, and everyone laughed.
    The evening was under way, and the conversation was easy and friendly. Every now and then I would catch Steve looking at me in the way that men look at women when they are interested in what’s under the skirt, and I would respond with an expression of disapproval. What the hell was he thinking? The last thing I wanted was to get tangled up with anyone, but especially him.
    At some point while we were refilling glasses and Mom was engaged in an animated conversation with Charlie about tide clocks and how they worked, Steve offered me his condolences.
    “Your mother told me all about your husband’s passing, and I just wanted to say how sorry I was to hear it. I mean, I know I said it earlier but . . .”
    “Thanks.” I didn’t make eye contact but kept my attention on the wine bottle and how much I was pouring. “Yeah, it’s devastating for me and for Charlie. I think this is going to be one of those awful losses that you just never get over.”
    “Yeah, I hear you. You know, I lost my wife in a boating accident a few years ago. Lightning. She was struck by lightning. So stupid.”
    “Mom told me. I’m sorry.”
    “Thanks. Yeah, I thought that by the time I reached this age I’d have a family. At least you have Charlie. He’s a great kid.”
    “Yep, he’s the real deal. All boy. Great heart. Smart as a whip.”
    “Yes, he seems so. I gotta say, though, I never expected to find myself back on the market, did you?”
    I don’t know what it was that he said that made my blood run cold, but it did.
    I stared at him. “I’ve been a widow for a total of eight weeks. I hardly consider myself to be on the market.” Just as quickly as I had let my mouth run away with itself, I realized how rude I had been. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I apologize.”
    “No, I apologize. I’m an insensitive Neanderthal.”
    “I know all about Neanderthals,” Charlie said. He was obviously eavesdropping while pretending to be mesmerized with my mother’s pedantic, repetitious, and very long-winded lecture on the formation of sand dunes.
    “Well, do you know anything about grills?” Mother asked with a wide smile. The gin was doing her some good, as her facial muscles were less taut and she seemed to be relaxed at last.
    Steve raised his hand. “I do. Back home in Cincinnati, they call me the Grill Meister. Can I light it for you?”
    “That would be such a blessing!” she said. “Grills make me so nervous. Leaking gas and all that scary stuff.”
    Steve gave her a pat on the arm, and I thought the old girl would swoon.
    Over