Under the full moon of the warm, late spring night, anything could happen at Thornway Road, and it did. Through their years of marriage, Quinton was always diligent when it came to maintaining romance. Nola followed Quint into their bedroom and closed the door behind her. Quint quietly hummed, as he set all details to the proper romantic mood: removed his jacket, lit some scented candles, dimmed the lights, popped in a few breath strips, and turned finally to his wife, while he removed his cuff links. To his surprise, Nola stood before him stripped down to her skimpy La Perla lingerie.

“Nola,” he gasped, drinking her in with his eyes.

Nola was dressed in a purple bra, panties and thigh high stockings with an expression on her face that left her intentions abundantly clear. She glided toward her husband to assist him in the removal of his tie and shirt, kissing each inch of his flesh, as it was revealed.

“You’re full of surprises.” He sincerely indicated to and caressed her rounded tummy and her fuller breasts. “And I like very much how you have filled out.”

“I’m glad you like,” she murmured. “You know how I get around my second trimester.”

“Yes, I believe that I recall,” he smirked lasciviously. “But don’t you want me to set the rest of the room?”

“No, I want you to fuck me now.” Almost inaudibly, she purred in his ear, “I’m so wet for you.”

Like a light switch, Nola’s direct words banished all his reserve. Quinton instantaneously released the hooks on her bra, freeing and then massaging her breasts. She quietly sighed, as he manipulated her erect nipples, and then took his time drawing each needy one into his mouth. She undid and removed his trousers, then slipped her hand into his boxers, fondling him, as he earnestly and impatiently extricated himself from the inconvenient garment. Once free of his clothing, he returned to kissing her breasts and then slipped his hand into her panties. Nola eagerly wiggled out of them. Quint squeezed her soft ass, and then deftly slid his hand between her thighs, immediately getting the desired reaction. Her sighs turned to louder and louder moans.

“Yes, I see what you’re talking about,” he whispered with a sly, distinctive, half-smile. He watched his wife, as her eyes closed nearly to slits, and she threw back her head in abandon. His mouth explored her lips, neck and breasts. His able hands attended to even more intimate places. Her vocalizations became louder and louder.

“Shhh, my dear,” he whispered into her ear, as he encircled it with his tongue, barely letting up with his manual torture of her wetness. “We haven’t even gotten to the main event.”

“Quinton,” she eventually gasped breathlessly. Nola half-regained her senses and guided him back toward the bed, as she resumed fondling his erection.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he said, glancing down at his wife’s dexterous hands at work.

She seductively grinned and pushed him down onto the bed then promptly crawled on top of him. She leaned down to kiss him with a probing tongue, taunted his mouth with her swelled breasts, and then expertly positioned herself to let him easily pop inside her for the precise sensation she desired. Quint emitted a deep groan of satisfaction, as her warmth engulfed him. She stilled all movement and closed her eyes in deep concentration. Nola appreciated the new, satisfying feeling of fullness while her body adjusted to perfectly accommodate him. Quint situated himself full inside her, marveled at the visual of his aroused partner above him, and then began to guide her hips in, at first, a slow, almost painstaking motion. Taking control of the rhythm and explicitly verbalizing her pleasure and wants, Nola again demonstrated her skills and erotic expertise to her husband. And like the generous lover he was, Quinton reciprocated in kind.

Throughout the session, Quint tenderly reminded his wife to hush, but he also so enjoyed her usual boisterous enjoyment of their lovemaking that, oftentimes, he just did not have the heart or the willpower and accepted the risk that someone might have arrived back at the house to overhear them. Quinton loved when Nola took the initiative in bed. It was not something that was comfortable for her to do when they were first together. It took a lot of encouragement on his part to free her to be open about sex, but once she was, it was like unleashing a wild beast. And it had been the case with her pregnancy with AJ and later with Beatrice that Nola became insatiably interested in sex right after her morning sickness subsided, and before she was uncomfortably large. Once he was assured there was no harm to the baby, Quint never complained and found her fuller shape to be absolutely luscious. Further, it was not something they liked to discuss, but they both knew that within two months there was a good chance that Nola would have to be on total bed rest until the baby was born, and that would almost certainly remove intercourse from the menu. In the meantime, they would take full advantage of the time together and Nola’s enhanced libido.

They made love until they were sated, and she rolled over onto the bed. Nola sighed and giggled, as Quint looked over at her in amazement.

“What?” she self consciously asked.

“You know what.”

“Tell me,” she begged.

“I’m an old man now. I might need some Viagra to keep up with my little, nymphomaniac wife. How many times was that for you?”

“You underestimate yourself,” she cooed. “And I lost count after about the third. Plus, I’m not so little anymore.” She rubbed her belly.

“That is the sexiest, most alluring belly I have ever seen,” he beamed, while he kissed and caressed the swelling. “Daddy can’t wait to see you, baby girl.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet, Quinton,” Nola gushed, enjoying the moment. “Sweetie, would you mind putting on my cream?” she asked, reaching for the tube of vitamin E cream that she kept on the nightstand.

Quint obliged and lovingly applied the vitamin E to her abdomen, and then provided her with a relaxing full body massage.

A few minutes earlier Olivia, Gracie, Annabelle and Tony arrived back at Thornway Road. Mrs. Renfield, Effie and Helena were in the following limousine. Olivia changed into more comfortable clothing in the room that had once been Nola’s bedroom. Gracie tapped on the door, and Olivia invited her in.

“Oh my,” Gracie remarked, “being in this room brings back so many memories of Nola and I snooping around this old house.”

“Really?” Olivia enthused. “I bet you guys were so fun back then.”

“Were fun?” Gracie objected, “We ARE fun.”

“What were Uncle Quint and Aunt Nola like back then?”

“Well, he was very mysterious, and everyone called him Mr. McCord. At one point, Nola and I thought he might even be a vampire.”

“Why would you think something so bizarre?” Olivia quizzically asked.

“It was a dream Nola had, but also, there were no mirrors in the house. And the house was so spooky, and we used to hear organ music coming from the attic.”

“Did you find out where the organ music was coming from?”

“Yes, it was Mrs. Renfield up there playing it.”

“Gracie, that lady kind of scares me. How old is she?”

“She’s a nice lady, but she must be close to a hundred by now.”

“Wow,” Olivia gasped. “I sure hope she doesn’t decide to croak when I’m here.”

“Trust me, Livvie. She is not nearly as scary as she used to be. Nola tells me that she’s really a very nice lady who’s been good to the family over the years.”

“Aunt Nola told me how she reminded her Mrs. Danvers from ‘Rebecca’, and I can totally see that. Although now, she makes Mrs. Danvers look sort of young.”

“It’s true, but I’m not going to criticize someone on their age. Now, I know how fast you can get old.”

“You’re not old, Gracie.”

“How old do you think I am?” Gracie fished.

“I don’t know, thirty five?” Olivia guessed.

“Ha, I wish. I’ll be fifty next year. I’m just a little more than a year older than Nola.”

“Seriously, you guys don’t seem that age,” Olivia insisted. “Can we go see the secret passageways now?”

“You must have those bossy Reardon genes,” Gracie teased.

“I am a Reardon, so I guess so,” Olivia jested, pushing Gracie out into the hallway.

“Nola always used to force me too, even though she knew it creeped me out.”

A little while later after having a few drinks at a local bar, Anastasia and Seamus arrived back at the house. Anastasia, tipsy from the drinks, laughed hysterically, as Seamus led her into the foyer.

“Anastasia, quiet down! Everyone is probably asleep.”

“But it’s so early,” Anastasia protested.

“It’s almost midnight. And it is a big day tomorrow.”

“Please just come up to my room. I hate that you have to sleep down the hall.”

“I’ll think about it. But you, my sweetheart, need to get to bed, so you can be well rested for tomorrow.”

“But I’m having such a good time with you,” Anastasia placed a lingering kiss on Seamus’s lips.

“Now, if you start that . . .”

“You’ll just have to come up to my room?” she hopefully interjected.

“No, next time I’ll have to cut you off after one martini,” Seamus said with authority.

“Everyone except Aunt Vanessa thinks that I’m a little baby, including you.” Anastasia whined.

“I think no such thing, but I want your father to like me, and he’s not going to like me, if he finds you drunk, and me in your room,” Seamus reminded.

“I know.” Anastasia pouted, “You can be such a party pooper sometimes.”

“Are we going to do that poor, little rich girl routine again?”

Anastasia gasped, “You have not said that to me since we first met.”

“Well, you are a little rich girl. Look at this place, and then the place in California and the place in Gstaad. And you said they were looking at a place in the Caribbean?”

“Do you think that I’m a spoiled brat?” Anastasia inquired in a baby voice.

“Not anymore,” Seamus teased. “But I also don’t want you to lose that part of you either. It’s part of what makes you, you, and me love you so much.”

“You’re so sweet,” she placed another lingering kiss on his lips.

“Now, that kind of kissing, and you in that knock out dress is breaking down my resolve. So you better get off to bed now. I’ll come and kiss you goodnight.”

Seamus patted her on the behind, as she gleefully skipped up the same steps she vaguely remembered toddling up years before.

The last strains of Pachelbel’s Canon were playing on the Bose. Nola lay on her side and sighed contentedly, while Quint finished her full body massage. “I don’t know what it is about that song.”

“It does something to me too,” Quint kissed his wife on her shoulder and smoothed his hands over her hips and down the back of her thighs.

“Mmmmm, your hands are like magic.”

“After this down time of touching and looking at you like this, something else might be magic too,” Quint provocatively teased.

“That is absolutely an offer that I’ll not pass up,” Nola remarked rolling over on her back to face Quint, “but I’m dying of starvation, so will need some food before round two.”

“OK, I guess I can wait,” Quint reclined back on the bed and watched his nude wife prance about the room. “Nola, you are truly a vision.”

“Even after all these years?” she said, looking for something to put on.

“More than ever,” he replied with absolute sincerity.

Nola decided to don Quint’s discarded shirt from that evening. The shirt went to just above her knees, and she rolled up the sleeves to have use of her hands. She located her cast off panties and shimmied into them. She kissed her husband, “I’ll be back soon. Don’t forget your promise.”

“Oh, I most certainly will not, my love,” he promised, glancing down at and slightly manipulating the proof of his arousal.

“You’re quite a vision yourself, Mr. Chamberlain,” she chirped. “I’ll try not to be long.” She quickly exited the room.

Nola ran info Effie in the kitchen and scolded her for still being up, and not leaving all the clean up and preparations to the catering staff. Nola cut up some bananas, doused them in heavy cream and scarfed them down. Then she started on some packaged vanilla cupcakes that she had squirreled away.

Upstairs as promised, Seamus snuck down the hallway and into Anastasia’s darkened room. He was surprised that she already had the light off and felt around for her bed. “Anastasia honey, are you still up?”

“Hmmmm?” he heard her sleepily say.

“If you’re already asleep, that’s ok,” Seamus whispered, and then he bumped hard against the bed. “Ow,” he winced, “the bed wasn’t here before.” With that, an unfamiliar scream echoed throughout the room.

“Get out of my room,” Helena Manzini yelled, pulling out her ear plugs, and searching for the switch on the light. “Who are you?”

“It’s Seamus, ma’am. I’m so sorry, ma’am. I must have come into the wrong room.”

At that moment, Nola was making her way up the stairs with the box of remaining vanilla cupcakes.

Failing to find the light switch, Helena jumped out of bed in her nightgown, and ran to the door that was left partially ajar. “Get out of my room; this is a crazy house” she continued to shriek, running into the hall. Seamus followed her, trying to diffuse the situation.

“What are you doing in my room?” she shrieked again before calming down.

“What’s going on?” Nola demanded.

In a hushed voice, Seamus attempted to explain, “I was going to say good night to Anastasia, and I must have gone into Ms. Manzini’s room instead, and it was all a big mistake.” Seamus bent down to rub his bruised knees and shins.

The door next to Helena’s popped open, and Anastasia emerged confused in her sleep sweats. Within moments, Tony groggily appeared at the door to his room, and then Olivia and Gracie ascended the steps, curiously seeking out the source of the mayhem.

“Just going to say good night, hmmmm?” Helena hissed in an unconvinced tone, checking Seamus out from head to toe.

“I swear I was,” Seamus stammered. “I promised her that I would, and there are so many rooms in this house, and I just made a mistake. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

And never one to miss an opportunity to give her nemesis a hard time, Helena recognized the shirt Nola was wearing as Quint’s and sarcastically remarked under her breath, “Nice night clothes, dear heart.”

“We should all try to keep our voices down,” Nola suggested in a hushed voice, not at all deterred by Helena’s jealous comment. “I’m sure Seamus did not mean to scare you.”

“Well, if you would like to come back in my room . . .” Helena added in a suggestive tone. Olivia and Gracie snickered. Tony and Nola, nonplussed, shook their head, but considering it typically inappropriate Helena behavior.

Just then, Quinton with his hair mussed finally made his way into the hallway, hastily dressed in pajama bottoms and a robe.

“What the hell is going on?” Quint firmly inquired.

Helena was about to blow the whistle on the kids, but then looked to Seamus and Anastasia who were both fidgeting uncomfortably and searching her eyes for pity. Out of a sudden sense of charity, Helena diverted the responsibility for the creation of the story to the mother of one of the culprits, thus sparing them, “Yes, what is going on, Nola? I’m a little confused myself.”

Over the years, Nola had become an expert at covering for her children in similar benign situations. She quickly searched for an explanation, “Well, I was going to have some cupcakes with Gracie, and catch up. I was looking for Gracie’s room, and by mistake, I went into Helena’s room instead. I must have misunderstood Effie about who was in which room, and I scared Helena. That’s all.”

Anastasia smiled at her mother and Ms. Manzini, and then looked to her father who looked unconvinced.

“I’m sorry that my hysterics woke you, Quinton,” Helena apologized, digging for any hint of information about what he actually had been doing. She hoped it had not been what she suspected, based on the fact that Nola was blatantly flaunting herself about the house in his shirt from earlier in the evening. It was hard enough to digest that he had stayed with Nola all these years, but even harder to swallow that they still had a robust sex life. She wanted to believe that the pregnancy was either an aberration or a result of fertility treatments which was a reasonable, albeit incorrect, assumption at Nola’s age.

“I was not sleeping yet,” Quinton said, tightening the belt on his robe.

Nola breezed past Helena and, for her rival’s eyes, conspicuously wiped a telltale smudge of lipstick from Quinton’s neck. To make it all better, she placed a soothing kiss on her husband’s lips. Helena glanced down unable to watch.

“Well now, I feel wide awake,” Tony remarked.

“Daddy, why don’t you and Mom go back to sleep,” Anastasia suggested in a slightly garbled voice.

“Honey, we weren’t sleeping.” Quint iterated with concern, noticing something different about his daughter, “Are you okay?”

Anastasia earnestly attempted to speak as clearly as possible, “I’m fine, Daddy. I’m just really really tired.” She crooked a smile that Quint never could resist.

“Mr. Chamberlain, it was a wonderful dinner tonight,” Seamus nervously attempted to change the subject. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course,” Quint added, eyeing Seamus suspiciously.

Suddenly, there was a loud vibrating noise coming from the end of the hall.

“What’s that?” Olivia shivered.

“What now?” Helena disgustedly muttered to herself.

Everyone stopped to listen to the sound, as another bone shattering explosion echoed down the long hallway.

“Oh my God!” Gracie exclaimed, clutching onto Olivia.

“Shh, shh, everyone,” Nola instructed, trying to maintain a straight face. Then she revealed, “It’s probably Mrs. Renfield. Sometimes she snores very loudly.”

“That’s a lady snoring?” Olivia queried in amazement. “Nora’s room is right next to hers.” The young girl could not hold back her laughter, nor could Gracie.

“Olivia, stop it,” Tony reprimanded his daughter, attempting very hard not to laugh himself.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I for one am going back to bed,” Helena announced in frustration, brandishing the ear plugs she had clenched in her hand. “Once a crazy house, Quinton, always a crazy house,” Helena added. With a flourish and a haughty, “Ciao,” she was back in her room with the door closing behind her.

“Quint, since no one will be getting much sleep in the near future, how about joining me downstairs for some scotch?” Tony suggested.

“Tony, that’s a wonderful idea,” Quint responded, knowing that he had not gotten the full truth about the ruckus and assuming it had something, probably harmless, to do with Seamus and Stacey who both appeared visibly shaken. “Seamus, perhaps you can join us, and we can talk more about the evening?”

“Sure, Mr. Chamberlain,” Seamus politely acquiesced and glanced quickly to Anastasia who stood wide-eyed in the doorway to her room. He hoped for some moral support from her, but all he got was a quick shrug.

“Good night,” Anastasia lamely quaked, quietly closing the door to her room, as if running from the scene of a crime.

“Yes, Seamus, you should join us,” Tony feigned a menacing tone to play along with Quint’s ruse.

“Um, Gracie, why don’t we get to that catching up?” Nola uncomfortably suggested.

“Sure, Nola,” Gracie replied.

“Me too?” Olivia chimed in.

“Of course,” Nola directed Olivia and Gracie to her old bedroom.

Quint and Tony followed Seamus downstairs, as if he was deadman walking, getting ready to face the firing squad. Quinton knew what was going on, and how Nola tried to shield him from many of the perils of parenting teenage and now young adult children. He allowed the arrangement of white lies to continue. He figured that all activities would tend to remain on the mild side, so long as they all feared his wrath in discovering “the truth.” He knew that Nola knew exactly which room each guest was in, since she had carefully chosen them and gone over it with Effie. He presumed Seamus had made the error and visited Helena when he intended to visit Stacey.

As he descended the steps, he recalled all the innocent times (of action, not of mind) that he had visited Nola late at night in the early years at Thornway Road. He remembered how the soft scent of her perfume would fill her room. He remembered how she sweetly smiled, so happy to accept his late night visits. Then how they would spend hours simply kissing and snuggling, until he politely excused himself for the night, when emotions started to grow in intensity. He remembered how painful it was to be apart from Nola, even for short periods of time, and how he simply would want to see her and give her a good night kiss. He attributed those same motivations to Seamus and Stacey. While it was not something he cared to think about, he suspected that Stacey and Seamus’ relationship had proceeded beyond the innocent. However, he also presumed that out of respect for the family that they would go along with his house rules and restrain themselves. He was not always so sure that the same assumption could be applied to his very handsome, lady killer of a young son. AJ’s development into an indisputably attractive, young, but grown man, getting all the attentions that he himself once received, was paradoxically a pride and a painful reminder of his own advanced middle age and mortality. This conflict partially led to many of the disputes and miscommunications that riddled the complex relationship he had with his only son.

Speaking of the young Chamberlain heir, the last of the limousines was arriving back at Thornway Road with AJ, Bill, Nora and Charlotte. It pulled up to the front entranceway, and the kids piled out.

“Ladies, sorry that club was completely lame, but what do you expect from an underage place?” AJ apologized.

“I can’t believe the driver wouldn’t take us anywhere else,” Bill complained. “I know this great place, where they definitely would have let us all in.”

“My mom gets paranoid sometimes, and she made the arrangements,” AJ shrugged. “But I have a plan that will save the night.”

“I sure hope so,” Charlotte smirked, unconvinced.

“We can go to the pool and swim,” AJ suggested. “And there are cold beers and a full bar in the pool house.”

“I don’t have my bikini with me,” Charlotte informed AJ.

“Beautiful, you can borrow one of my sister’s bikinis,” AJ smoothly solved the problem. Then he huskily whispered in her ear, “The top piece might be a little small on you, but I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Charlotte positively responded to AJ’s cocky demeanor and seemed to get over her annoyed attitude.

The kids headed over to the pool. The boys quickly changed into their trunks. AJ showed Charlotte where Stacey’s bathing suits were, and then left to allow Nora and Charlotte privacy to change.

“Dude, that Charlotte is really hot,” Bill exclaimed. “She can be a little bitchy at times, but with a rack like that, who cares.”

“I know how to handle feisty women like that,” AJ bragged. “It’s one of the things I learned from watching my old man with my mother. So are you going to try to hook up with Nora?”

“I think so,” Bill remarked. “She’s been majorly flirting with me all evening, so we’ll see.”

AJ polled his cousin while he looked in the refrigerator, “What kind of beer do you want?” “We have Red Stripe, Dos Equis, Miller Lite, or you can have one of those pre-mixed margaritas.”

“I’ll take a Red Stripe, mon,” Bill said with a fairly authentic sounding Jamaican accent.

“Sound choice, my man,” AJ quipped and took one for himself.

Soon the girls exited the changing room wearing their bikinis.

“Wow, you girls look phenomenal,” AJ raved.

“Absolutely,” Bill concurred, as he moved toward Nora.

“AJ, I’ll take a Red Stripe too,” Nora smiled at Bill.

“Beautiful suit on a beautiful girl,” Bill spoke softly to Nora and boldly ran his finger over the straps of her top and across her shoulder.

AJ rolled his eyes at his cousin’s pathetic come on.

“Well, thank you,” Nora blushed.

AJ directed, as he tossed the bottle of Red Stripe to Nora, “Here, cous, catch.” Nora and Bill headed off to the edge of the pool.

“Looks like that leaves us alone,” AJ casually remarked. “What can I get you to drink?”

“I don’t really like beer. What else do you have?”

“I can make you absolutely anything you want,” AJ sauntered over to her side.

“I can’t believe your family has been living here all this time, and I never knew about you.”

“I haven’t spent too much time with my parents since I’ve been in school,” AJ stated, as he swigged his beer. “How about a margarita?”

“That sounds perfect.”

AJ poured the drink for Charlotte, “Here you go. God, you smell nice. And you know, forgive me if I stare, but you’re knocking me out in that bikini.”

“Oh come on, I don’t look half as good as you,” Charlotte insisted, sipping her margarita.

“I can’t believe that I didn’t know about YOU next door. I didn’t think I would meet anyone interesting in Springfield.”

“Me neither, when my father insisted I stay with Meg for a few weeks. Then Meg said she met this couple living next door, and they were doing this big blow out party, and that they had kids my age. Of course, I just assumed the kids would be boring, so meeting you was quite a surprise.

“I’m full of surprises,” AJ boasted. “Living in Malibu and going to Pepperdine, you must meet all sorts of interesting people?”

“It’s okay. People are people, and sometimes the LA thing gets old.”

“Well, you know, my folks have an ocean front house in Santa Barbara too, and I lived there since I was twelve. Now they go back and forth, but mostly here, since this house is so important to them, and my mom’s family is here.” AJ paused as they both enjoyed their drinks, “I don’t get the deal with you and Megan.”

“She’s my stepmom, but now, she and my dad are divorced, and since my real mother passed away, Meg has been kind of like my real mother. She’s super cool. She tries to pretend that she doesn’t like me, I know that. But it’s just an act, and we really have a cool time together. She let’s me do my thing. We go out together on outrageous shopping sprees and spend my dad’s money.”

“Huh, you should hang out with my sister, Stace. She’s a big time shopper too.”

“Your parents seem really neat,” Charlotte commented. “I don’t think I know anyone our age whose parents are still together, and they seem so in love. That’s sweet at their age.”

“Yeah, they are.” AJ admitted, “I’m really lucky.”

“Your dad was really a hottie in those old pictures they displayed from their first wedding. He’s still very good looking for an older guy.”

“Yeah, Dad had it going on back in the 80s.”

“I guess that is where you got your good looks from? But in many ways, you look a lot like your mom. She looked so cute in those old photos, such a baby.”

“I always heard how much I looked like Mom growing up, because we have the same eyes, but now people are saying more and more that I look like Dad. Who knows? So you want to go into the pool for a little bit?”

“Sure, it looks gorgeous. Hey, where did Bill and Nora go?”

“From the looks of things before,” AJ assumed, “I bet they wanted some privacy.”

“I can understand that.”

“You can? Hmmmm. Charlotte, I am going to have a good time getting to know you, but the last one in . . . . has to teach Mrs. Renfield the electric slide tomorrow.”

AJ set down his beer and took off toward the pool with Charlotte trailing behind him shouting, “Who’s Mrs. Renfield?”

AJ stopped at the edge of the pool, and let Charlotte jump in without him.

Charlotte shouted when she came up for air, “AJ Chamberlain, you tricked me.”

“I thought I would be gentlemanly and spare you from Mrs. Renfield and the electric slide, and I wanted to see if you looked as beautiful wet as you do dry. You do.”

Charlotte grimaced, “Do you really think they’ll do that cheesy electric slide at the wedding?”

“That and the chicken dance, for sure” AJ playfully misinformed her. “Nah, I think they have a string quartet band, and they’ll play a lot of classical music for Dad. Then later, a band to play Mom’s version of rock and roll, but don’t worry, no electric slide, Macarena or country.” He made a perfect dive into the pool to accentuate his physique.

“Great form,” she remarked.

“Not nearly as good as yours,” AJ reciprocated the complement.

“You’re awfully smooth,” she flirted back. “But how do I know that you’re sincere?”

“Because, I’m always sincere with such a lovely lady. I know how to treat a woman.”

“Why is that?”

“I learned from watching my dad. He knows how to treat a lady, and my mom and sister always ruled the house, so I naturally learned to appreciate females in all their glory.”

“That’s dangerous, especially since you’re so good looking.”

“You think so?” AJ swam close enough to her that he could almost feel her breathing. “It’s the second or third time tonight that you said something like that.”

“Don’t play that humble act with me, AJ. If anyone knows how good looking you are, it’s you.”

“I guess I’ve been told that once or twice before.”

“Only once or twice, huh?” she said flirtatiously.

“God, you have the most beautiful lips that I want to kiss.”

“Why don’t you just do it, instead of asking?” Charlotte brashly suggested.

He brushed his thumb gently across her lips, back along her chin and then through her hair, as he gently kissed her for the first time.

“Wow, that was nice,” Charlotte said with surprise. It wasn’t the kind of kiss I thought a boy like you would give. It was very romantic.”

“I’m a very romantic guy,” AJ proclaimed. “Were you maybe expecting a kiss like this?”

He brushed her cheek, and then softly caressed her lips with his own. The kiss built quickly in mutual intensity, and his tongue parted her lips for a long, sexy french kiss.

Back in the house, Seamus did not know what to think, as Anastasia’s father and uncle escorted him into the study, and Quint poured them each a glass of Glenlivet, neat.

Tony raised his glass, “To the Reardon and the Chamberlain family.”

The three men toasted and started to drink. Before Seamus’s glass was even halfway empty, Tony was there to fill it up again.

“So Seamus, tell us how you find things to be in Springfield compared to Oxford,” Quint probed.

“I haven’t seen much of it outside the walls of the grounds here, but I like it very much.” Seamus searched for something more to say, “The people seem very friendly.”

“Yes, it’s very friendly here,” Tony agreed.

“Everyone in the family has been so nice to me. I especially enjoy the company of your sister, Ms. Chamberlain. Vanessa is quite nice, and Ms. Manzini is a character I never quite expected to meet while here.”

“Why do you say that, Seamus?” Quinton suspiciously inquired, pouring himself another scotch.

“No particular reason,” Seamus stuttered.

“Well, there must be something you had in mind, since you specifically referred to her as a character,” Quint pushed.

“Anastasia told me a little of the history with everyone, and I think it’s nice that everyone can feel so comfortable in all types of situations,” Seamus painfully searched for diplomatic words.

“Do you mean because I used to date Helena?” Quinton added.

“Yes, Anastasia mentioned that,” Seamus admitted.

Tony refilled his own glass again and tossed it back.

“Quint, do you remember that time when Helena whacked you on the head with the crow bar? Damn, she was a crazy bitch. Why DO you invite her to these things? I would not invite some broad who hit me with a crowbar and practically killed me to anything, except maybe her going away permanently party.”

“Helena and I have let bygones be bygones. I find her amusing.”

“You’re certainly a lot different man from any other I know, Quint.” Tony’s speech became stilted, and his emotions heightened, “But you’re my brother-in-law, and you’re good to my little sister, and I love you, brother.”

The alcohol also started to take a noticeable effect on Quint, and he took on a noticeable Shakespearian speech pattern, “Ah, Nola. Yes, my life has no meaning without her. Did I ever tell you that I wasn’t even capable of loving until I met Nola?”

“Mr. Chamberlain, that is quite a declaration. Have you told Mrs. Chamberlain that?”

Tony burst out laughing. “Seamus, you obviously don’t know our Quint very well. Casanova, here, lived those words and sentiments every day of his life. Not only did Nola know, but practically everyone in the free world knew.”

“Really now, Anthony, you seriously exaggerate,” Quint objected. “I admit that I am rather outward about my affections for Nola, but, Anthony, not to the egregious and public degree that you imply.”

“Now, it’s Anthony again. My name is Tony, Quint, Tony Reardon from Seventh Street, not Anthony from one of your classical books,” Tony chided. “And just what does ‘egregious’ mean? Should I get out my Webster’s for the rest of this conversation?”

Over Tony’s taunting, Quint dryly stated, “Your full name is Anthony. That is a perfectly acceptable name, which is why we named our only son after you.”

“And for that, I will always be honored,” Tony bowed down dramatically, also feeling the effects of the scotch.

Quinton continued to sip his scotch. “Gentleman, finding your one true love is such a life changing experience. I had been such a melancholy man, and Nola brought me back to life.”

Both Tony and Seamus grimaced at Quint using the word “melancholy” to describe himself.

Quint continued, “Did I ever tell you, Anthony, about the first time I met Nola in the gazebo? It was the time when she came to interview for the job as my household supervisor?”

“No, Quint,” Tony balked at the ridiculousness of his question, having heard the story from either Quint or Nola or both well over a hundred times. “Why don’t you tell Seamus and me all about it?”

Quint dramatically relived the events, as he recounted them, “It was early October of 1981. She nervously crept up to where I was standing, waiting for her in the gazebo. I turned around, and there she stood, like an angel, speechless. Of course, I had no idea at that time it would be one of only a few times she was at a loss for words. She was a vision, dressed in a black skirt suit with a matching brimmed hat and white, ruffled blouse. She looked at me with her mesmerizing, big, brown, doe eyes, and the sun danced brightly in the red flecks of her hair. Ah, I can remember it as if it were yesterday. From the first moment I saw her, that very first moment, I knew I would love her. I don’t know how or why, but I knew. I knew I had met my soul mate and my future wife, lover and mother of my children. It was truly magical, gentlemen. She completely redefined and invigorated my once meaningless life. And as much as I loved her then, I love her exponentially more now.”

Seamus barely knew what to say. He had plenty of times gone drinking with his buddies, but never once, did one of them turn into a classical poet of sorts after a few drinks, and choose to extol, in soothing prose, upon the numerable virtues of their significant other, or go on about their courtship, as if it were a romantic 19th century tale. Anastasia had told Seamus that her father was special, and now he knew what she was referring to.

“Quint, that’s fascinating,” Tony teased. “I don’t think I ever heard that story before.”

“Oh, the gazebo holds many special memories for Nola and me. We met there, she told me she was pregnant with AJ there, we have made love there, and tomorrow . . . . ”

Tony interrupted, “Man, you don’t need to share that about my sister. How about more stories about your melancholy college years instead?”

Quint rhapsodized on and on about Nola, and soon he was all but soliloquizing in iambic pentameter. Tony good naturedly went along, but kept looking back to Seamus for a reality check from the weird zone they had entered.

“Quint, you know I could listen to you all night, but it’s getting late, and I should go back to bed,” Tony announced with a yawn.

“What time is it?” Quint snapped to.

“Almost 1AM,” Seamus confirmed.

“Oh, I should get back upstairs too. I promised Nola . . .well, that would be,” Quint paused to come up with the expression, “TMI, as you would say?”

“Absolutely,” Tony breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Quint finally caught on.

Nola and Gracie sat crossed legged on Olivia’s guest bed in the room that was once Nola’s. Empty cupcake wrappers and crumbs littered the nightstand.

“Come on, let’s see some of your moves,” Nola spiritedly coaxed Olivia who was showing off her tap dancing moves sans taps.

“Well, it’s not as cool without the taps, but I can do almost everything: time steps, pullbacks in place, cramp rolls, wings, throw everything into a turn.” Olivia demonstrated each move as she called it out.

“How about a time step with a wing?” Nola suggested.

“Hey, how do you know about stuff like that, Nola?” Gracie asked.

“Gracie, hello! I only spent all the money I made from babysitting, taking classes in junior high and high school. I wanted to be like Ruby Keeler.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Gracie dimwittedly lamented. “But I thought you wanted to be like Bette Davis?”

Nola corrected, “Bette Davis was an actress, Gracie. Ruby Keeler was a hoofer. Two totally different things.”

“And who did you want to sing like? Judy Garland?” Gracie teased.

“Ofcourse, why not?” Nola said. “But I didn’t have nearly the pipes for that.”

“Too bad you were never on Broadway,” Gracie remarked.

“Yeah, too bad,” Nola sighed. “So, Livvie, how about those time steps: singles, doubles, triples and with wings.”

“Aunt Nola, come and show me what you can do,” Olivia insisted.

“Naw, I don’t want to show off,” Nola feigned disinterest.

“Come on Nola, you know you want to,” Gracie egged her longtime friend on.

“All right, all right,” Nola gleefully jumped up and shook out her legs, ankles and feet.

Olivia quickly counted out the tempo, “One, two, three, four.”

Nola and Olivia went through a series of progressive time steps with shuffles and stomps, then traveled them and added wings, and then switched to the well known military time step with pullbacks for flash.

“You have some good feet, Aunt Nola,” Olivia complemented. “You almost got all the steps right.”

“I can’t believe it all came back to me. I haven’t had on taps in years. But, Livvie, you’re really good.”

“You think so, Aunt Nola?”

“Yeah, I mean time steps are basic, but I can see you have good technique.”

Just then Quinton appeared in the door of Olivia’s guestroom. “Excuse me, ladies,” Quint interrupted causing Gracie to yelp.

“I’m sorry, Gracie, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Mc . . .” Gracie stopped and corrected herself, “I mean Quinton.”

“I think this old house will always put Gracie a little on edge,” Nola laughed.

“Nola, I just wanted to say good night in case you still . . . wanted to . . .” Quint delicately hinted.

“Oh rrright,” she stuttered, immediately reshuffling her priorities. “Well, it was fun, girls, but I really must dash.” Nola indiscreetly disappeared with Quint, mouthing to him “Yes, Mr. McCord.”

Olivia and Gracie were left amused and a tad embarrassed.

Seamus peeked out of his door and unfortunately saw her girlfriend’s father squeeze the behind of his girlfriend’s mother, as they playfully scampered from Olivia’s room back to their boudoir. Once the door closed behind him, and he was certain they would not re-emerge; Seamus made his way to Anastasia’s door. This time being certain it was, indeed, the correct door. The door opened with a protesting creak, and he slipped inside.

“Seamus, is that you?” Anastasia hopefully whispered.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“What happened to you? I’ve been waiting here in the dark for almost an hour.”

“Well, you kind of sent me off with the wolves. I thought your dad and your uncle were going to kill me, but then they started drinking scotch, and things got really really weird.”

Anastasia giggled knowingly, “You got to witness Daddy drunk?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it drunk, but after about the second scotch, the conversation took an unusual turn.”

“Did he wax poetic about the wonders of Mom? And did he refer to his melancholy youth and talk about the gazebo?”

“Yes, sort of. What is that about?”

“It’s just Daddy. Just be glad that Mom wasn’t there. They get so into it, and play off each other, and it used to totally embarrass AJ and me when we were kids.”

“And before I came in here, I witnessed them playing grab ass in the hallway. I’m not sure if I’ll ever recover from this.”

“Awww, poor baby,” Anastasia teased. “I think you’ll be all right.”

“I hope so,” Seamus groaned.

That evening, the moon continued to shine full and bright. Mrs. Renfield’s loud bouts of snoring continued to periodically rock the house, intermingled with unabashed shrieks of ecstasy from the master bedroom. Gracie could barely sleep all night, terrified by all the noises created by the people and the house itself. She longed to be back in her modern condo in Los Angeles for a good night sleep. Seamus kissed Anastasia good night and returned alone to his bedroom for another respectful evening. Nola and Quint finally fell asleep, exhausted in each others’ arms. The Viagra was left untouched. The kids harmlessly fooled around by the pool until Sam, the grounds keeper, kicked them out, in order to clean and set the pool for the festivities the next day. AJ walked Charlotte back to her house next door and tried to get her to invite him in, but she coquettishly resisted his abundant charms. Helena had a dream about the two young, devilishly handsome sons of her past lovers, taking her as their love slave on a deserted island. Helena slept soundly the rest of the evening with a big grin plastered across her face. AJ warned Bill that his Uncle Tony would “karate kick his ass”, if he found out what he tried with Nora. Olivia dreamt she was starring in a tap extravaganza with her Aunt Nola, and they were the toast of the town. Eventually, much of the mayhem subsided, as the night finally rolled into the next morning.