“Like if you have a gambling problem or something,” Drew said.

“No, I want in like everyone else,” she said. “Though I hope you’ll be patient with me. I’ve never been good at card games.”

“We’ll be very patient,” Beau said.

“Then can I just have a bunch of penny chips?”

“Okay, Lauren, to stay in the game you’re going to have to bet along with the rest of us. You’ll have to ‘see,’ which means to match a bet to stay in, or ‘call’ which forces them to show their hand. Every move costs chips. And they’ll do the same to you.”

“Okay,” she said uncertainly. “So, what should I do? Twenty dollars?”

“That’s good,” Beau said. “And you only have to play as long as you’re comfortable. If you want to get out of the game and just eat, drink and watch, that’s okay. And if you need help, just ask me.”

“No way, pardner,” Drew said. “She asks me.”

Lauren dug in her purse. “Can’t believe he’s so scared of a girl who hasn’t played poker in at least twenty-five years...”

“You just take your time,” Beau said.

He counted out her chips while everyone put their money in the pot and took the appropriate chips. Then Beau dealt the cards and asked her if she wanted to open.

“Sure,” she said. “How much? A few pennies?”

Everyone groaned.

“Well jeez...”

“Look at your cards, see what you have, you can discard up to three and pick up new ones. I’ll open. I’m in for fifty and I’ll take two cards.”

Around the table they went, then went again. Lauren stayed in. When they were going around the third time and it was just Tim, Drew and Lauren, she very politely raised her hand. “I have a question,” she said.

“You don’t have to raise your hand,” Beau said. “What’s your question?”

“What’s a full house again?” she asked, showing her cards.

There were more groans as everyone folded their hands.

And so it went. It was not long before they refused to let her ask questions and told her to check her cheat sheet and follow her instincts. Before long, Darla gave her chips to Drew and retired to the sofa to read, a plate of snacks balanced on her flat belly. That left Lauren as the only woman at the table as she played each hand in an ultra-polite manner, asking permission, saying please and thank you, laughing softly as the men groaned while she scraped her chips toward her. After about two hours she was the big winner of the night. Tim threw the party, Drew was hurting from his losses and Beau was amused in spite of himself.

“That’s it, I’m out,” Tim said. “I’ve emptied the collection plate.”

“Me, too,” Beau said. “I’m out.”

“I should quit and take Darla home,” Drew said.

“Awww... Don’t you want a chance to catch up?” Lauren asked.

“No!” they said in unison.

“Jeez,” she muttered, stacking her chips. Then she grinned and said, “Nice doing business with you.”

“It better not turn out you’re faking,” Tim said.

“Faking what?” she asked, grinning slyly. “Being a prodigy at poker?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah...”

“How about some coffee before you make that long four-block drive home?” Beau asked. “There’s cake. Not homemade, but it is cake.”

“Does it have preservatives?” Lauren teased.

It was down to Beau, Lauren and Tim sitting around with coffee and pound cake. Tim slowly got over his pique about being the big loser, though Beau had a hard time letting it rest. He seemed to enjoy it more than Lauren did.

Soon it was time for Lauren to say good-night. Beau walked her to her car and Tim rather conspicuously hung back. “The holidays are just around the corner,” Beau said. “Have you made plans?”

“I’ve barely thought about it,” she lied. “There’s my sister, I guess. Every other year, we went to Beth’s. On alternate years, Adele, Brad’s mother, hosted. It was catered, of course. This would be Adele’s year. Beth could be planning to go to her mother-in-law’s house, but I’m sure they’d all be happy to drag me along or adjust for me. The girls...haven’t said anything...”

“How homey,” he said, smiling. “I took a proactive stand—I’m cooking. I invited my whole family. Of my two sisters and one brother and their families, I don’t know who’s interested yet. They all have in-law obligations, too. And the boys are free agents.”

“How do you do that? Just tell them it’s up to them?”

“Exactly,” he said with raised eyebrows. “The only caveat being, I’m not cooking for their mother. The first set of holidays will be hard on the people that don’t want the divorce to be happening. That’s one person—Michael. The divorce makes Drew uncomfortable, but he gets it. I have a feeling he wouldn’t be married to his mother, either.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s got some really firm boundaries with her. But Michael? I’m pretty sure he wishes I would have applied myself and fixed her. But the point is, once you figure out your holiday calendar, I’m having Thanksgiving here probably for a bunch of people. I’d love for you to join us, if you feel like it. Your girls, too, if they want to.”

“That’s so nice of you,” she said.

“Just an option to think about,” he said. “You might want something different this year, just to change things up.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly. “I’m really glad you came to poker night. Even if you did wipe us out.”

“You men aren’t exactly good losers.”

He chuckled. “You raised your hand to speak, just like a schoolgirl.”

“You won’t underestimate me next time,” she said.

He leaned toward her. “I sure won’t.”

She instinctively backed up slightly when what she really wanted to do was lean into him. Obviously sensitive to her movement, he pressed a brief kiss on her cheek. “If you’d like me to follow you home, make sure you get in safely, I’d be happy to do that.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be alert, the street is well lit, the locks are good. Thank you for a fun night. Talk to you soon.” And she withdrew into her car.

He leaned on her car and she lowered the window. “If anything seems odd or weird, don’t get out of the car,” he said.

“Beau, I’ve been getting myself home from evenings out for weeks now,” she said. “I won’t take any chances.”

“When you’re home and safely behind locked doors, will you text me?”

She grinned at him. “You’re an old woman in a man suit.”

“I guess,” he said. He gave her car door a couple of pats and stepped away.

* * *

Tim was lounging on the sofa with his feet up on the ottoman, coffee balanced on his belly. He appeared to be in no great hurry to go anywhere. “That took a while,” he said to Beau.

“I was asking about Lauren’s holiday plans,” Beau said.

“You mean, you weren’t getting kissed?”

“I wasn’t, as if it’s any of your business,” he said.

“You’ve been chasing her for months! You used to have game,” Tim said.

“Lauren is understandably cautious,” Beau said. “And I am foolishly not.”

“Ah,” Tim said, sitting upright, feet on the floor. “So, you admit, this is moving too fast...”

“Not at all. Moving too slowly if you ask me. My marriage was over years ago. Pam and I have been separated almost a year now and if she’d just put away the damn calculator and wrap it up, it would be officially over. As for Lauren...” He ran a hand over his head. “It’s only been a few months for her. You’re right, I should slow down.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Tim said, feigning innocence.

“You learn that in priest class, don’t you? Getting information without exactly asking.”

Tim laughed. “With you, no lessons were required. You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve.”

“Yeah, you’re right. No game.” He sat down on the couch. “What about you? What’s going on with you? You haven’t complained about your boss in quite a while now.”

“I have no issue with my Boss,” Tim said. “It’s the earthly managers who wear me out. Maybe the problem is mine. I don’t feel useful.”

“Still that, eh? We should pull together a pumpkin giveaway—we have some good stock this year...”

“Is the phrase, ‘live with the smell of the sheep,’ familiar to you?” Tim asked.

Beau looked stunned. “Ah, no. But it doesn’t sound real appetizing...”

“It comes from the pope. He deftly pointed out that when priests and bishops aren’t out with the people, working with the people, directly helping the people—and I think he meant tilling their gardens and helping them fix their plumbing as well as providing spiritual guidance—they become managers. Let me put that more succinctly—they become bureaucrats. The bishop gave me a good book for some leisure reading. Three Easy Steps to Becoming a Bishop.” He laughed. “He’s such a political animal that when he heard the pope calling for priests who lived with the smell of the sheep, he immediately came looking for a lowly priest with political potential and that’s how he found me in that poor little parish in the central valley and got me transferred up here. So he could look me over. I guess I cleaned up pretty well. Now he wants me to apprentice under him in the See. He wants a bishop to come from his archdiocese.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing,” Beau said. “A bishop apprentice.”