We’re Still Having Fun
Chapter 1
Monday July 7, 2025
“So, Mother, did you enjoy the weekend on the lane?” Sharon asked her mother, the Sarah Kingsley. Sharon and Sarah, along with Owen Sr. were lounging in the back of a spacious limousine. Normally Owen Sr. would have driven them in his own car; however, for this trip to the lane, Sarah insisted on hiring a car with a driver at her beck and call.
After much debate, the boys decided to uphold tradition and throw their usual July 4th family barbeque. The lane was already overrun by close family and cottage owners showing support and solidarity for their boys. The family would not allow Brian and Justin nor John and Gus by virtue of their resemblance to Brian, to be abused by Craig. So the boys figured they might as well turn the crowd into a party. Bree returned from soccer camp and Craig appeared to be in much better spirits.
“Of course, I did, dear. The accommodations are quite comfortable and having Parker with me this time was such a convenience,” Sarah remarked as she looked out the car window. Said Parker was sitting up front with the driver.
“Only your mother would bring her own personal maid to a barbeque,” Owen Sr. whispered into his wife’s ear. Sharon gave her naughty husband a pinch as she cleared her throat.
“Taylor and Briana are growing up so quickly,” Sharon said as she observed the children waving one last time at the large car. Sharon pressed the button for the window to roll down; Sharon and Owen waved back.
“Children often do, dear,” Sarah stated the obvious.
“Mother, the children are waving.” The car was nearly at Emmett’s cottage when Sarah’s hand made a brief appearance out of the window to give a royal wave. They were just about through the gate when Sarah began her inquisition.
“Would someone explain to me why our hosts made a most brief appearance at their own soirée? I did see quite a lot of dear Robert but very little of anyone else! He’s an excellent attorney, by the way. I have him handling all of my charitable contributions.” Then Sarah said by way of an endorsement, “Owen, I highly recommend him.”
“Yes, Mother,” Owen dutifully replied.
“Oh, and dear sweet Patrick. He does so take after the Kinney side of the family except for that shockingly red hair of course.”
“Of course,” Owen and Sharon repeated.
“But I did not spend enough time with Justin. The Pittsburgh Art Society is hosting a dinner for several modern artists this year. How could I ever hold up my head in society again if I cannot guarantee Justin Taylor’s presence at the dinner? He’s family! When I did see him he was in a perpetual state of the giggles. So unbecoming to a young man of his considerable talents. I actually caught him sneaking into his own sun porch.”
“What do you mean sneaking into the sun porch?” Sharon asked trying to hide a snicker.
“I caught him tiptoeing into the porch and Brian wasn’t too far behind him,” Sarah stated with annoyance. “Honestly, Justin sneaking into his own porch? He looked around then made this little “eep” noise then quickly backed out the way he came. I swear he almost smashed right into Brian. Then they both looked around, got all wide eyed then high-tailed it out of there. If I didn’t know any better I could have sworn they were doing some sort of Three Stooges routine.”
“Mother!” Sharon gasped at the thought of her mother knowing about the classic slapstick comedians.
Owen could no longer contain himself, he burst out laughing. “Sarah, I always knew there was a bit of the devil in you,” Owen said as he winked at his mother-in-law.
“Owen!” Sharon shouted.
Sarah ignored them as she continued. “And then there was all this humming going on.” Sarah made a face as she said the word humming.
“Humming? What sort of humming?” Owen asked.
“Well, I don’t know. I pay little attention to modern music. It’s all just noise. It did sound somewhat familiar. I ought to have known it but I’m not up on the latest trends. I did ask several people but I only received vague replies. I was beginning to sense a conspiracy. That loud red headed woman said something about a mission but she was interrupted when that odious man hobbled into the gardens. Owen?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Why does that man look familiar?”
“What man, Mother?” Owen replied. He knew quite well which man his mother-in-law was referring to but he just couldn’t help himself.
“That man who entered the gardens wearing a, I believe it’s called a track suit. You don’t own any such garments, do you, Owen?”
“Of course not, Mother,” Owen replied as he crossed two fingers on one hand behind his back. Sarah narrowed her eyes at her son-in law. He actually owned several of them but he would never dare wear them in Sarah’s presence. “I believe the man you’re referring to is Craig Taylor.”
“Oh yes,” Sarah said with obvious disdain in her voice. “Isn’t he a member of our club?”
“Yes, Mother,” Owen replied.
“Can’t we do something about that?” Sarah said giving Owen a poignant look.
“I suppose we could, Mother, we are on the membership committee,” Owen mentioned nonchalantly. Sarah appeared to be mollified. “However, how would that look?”
“Explain, dear,” Sarah pushed.
“I have it on good authority that Justin is trying to rebuild a better relationship with his father if not for himself but for Briana. If it somehow got back to Craig that he was banned from the club…”
“Yes, yes, yes. I see your point,” Sarah conceded. “This is all very vexing!” Sarah snarled.
Owen and Sharon exchanged a look; apparently Sarah was now entering her Lady Catherine de Bourgh phase of the conversation.
“Susan Taylor is a very sweet woman,” Sharon ventured after a few minutes of tense silence. “She’s been very helpful in organizing many of our club functions.”
“True,” Sarah admitted with a sigh. “Oh very well,” Sarah said as she waved her hands in the air effectively ending the conversation. She took out a small travel pillow from her bag to wrap around her neck then leaned back and shut her eyes. After ten minutes soft snores could be heard from Sarah’s corner of the limo.
Sharon snuggled into Owen’s arms, relaxing for the trip back to the city. Just before she dozed off she managed to ask Owen about the “humming.”
“Honey, you know I did hear Brian humming something as I passed him near the greenhouse. I did think it was a little strange at the time that he was carrying a couple of plates of food into the greenhouse but I didn’t want to ask. I do hope the boys will be all right,” Sharon said with concern.
“They’ll be fine,” her husband assured her. “I had a chance to speak to Glen, Craig is improving and the boys are coping by turning the whole situation into a game.”
“Still it’s so unfair; they’re like prisoners in their own home.”
“No, sweetheart, they can leave anytime they wish. John does, he has a business to run. Brian has the luxury of supervising Kinnetik from home and Justin paints in the porch. You know that.”
“I know Mother can be difficult at times but…”
“Sarah Kingsley is a saint compared to Craig Taylor. Enough about him, let’s sit back and enjoy the ride home,” Owen suggested. Sharon leaned back into his arms to do just that until a thought came to her and she sat up.
“Do you know what the boys were humming?” Sharon asked as she looked up at her husband. Owen nodded.
“Well?” she asked. He mumbled something into Sharon’s ear. “You’re kidding me?” Owen shook his head no. Sharon snorted out a loud giggle then quickly lowered her voice when Sarah mumbled something in her sleep. Sharon snuggled back into her husband’s arms for the ride home.
*****
John and Peter arrived on the lane just about the same time as Bobby and Patrick. Patrick bounded out of the car still dressed in his baseball uniform and wearing an ear to ear grin. He had pitched a no hitter and was understandably very proud of himself. Bobby was just as proud.
“You pick the dinner menu tonight,” Bobby said. “Anything you want, even if we have to drive into Harrisburg.”
“Thanks, Poppa,” Patrick gave his red-headed father a hug. “There is that seafood restaurant we go to sometimes.”
“I know the one. I’ll tell your Dad.”
“Wait, can we go this weekend and ask the uncles and Bree?”
“Sure we can, but what about tonight?”
“Do you think we can get Uncle Bri to fire up the small grill to cook his famous burgers?” Patrick said with a grin.
“The ones with his secret ingredients that he won’t tell anyone about?” Bobby replied with a sly grin.
“Yeah,” Patrick laughed.
“I think that can be arranged. I’ll go talk to Brian. You go tell your father all about the game,” Bobby said as he grabbed his son one more time to ruffle the mop of red hair that was so like his own.
“Poppa!” Patrick laughed as he tried to escape. “Dad, help!” Bobby took pity on the boy and released him then he went to find Brian. John wasn’t much help as he laughed. He and Peter were unloading the Navigator, placing extra supplies in John’s shed. Patrick lent a hand as he told his father all about the game.
“Peter, do you want to stay for dinner if it's okay with Debbie and Carl?” Patrick asked. Peter was still shocked to be included. He thought Patrick was just being polite. “I know it’s just hamburgers but you gotta admit, Uncle Bri does make a mean hamburger. Saturday’s dinner will be special.”
“You want me to come with you on Saturday too?” Peter couldn’t believe his ears.
“Sure, why not. I know you like baseball. We gotta stick together or else Bree will take over,” Patrick winked as he teased.
“Be nice,” John warned but not too severely. It was true, when Bree got started on soccer, it was difficult to steer her off.
“Come on, Dad, you know Bree and soccer,” Patrick whined as he stuck a finger in his ear and made a face. Peter grinned.
“I know but just be…”
“Be nice. I’m always nice,” Patrick said, sounding a lot like Brian. John just shook his head.
With the shed all packed, Peter decided to go ask Debbie and Carl in person for permission to stay to dinner. Patrick needed a shower. They all went their separate ways until dinnertime.
*****
Having walked down the lane, Peter entered the thatched cottage. He hesitated in the doorway. He could see Debbie sitting at the small kitchen table reading something. She looked up when she heard the door close behind him. A warm smile graced her face.
"Hey, kiddo," she said, waving him over to the table. "How was your day?"
Peter thought about it for a minute before replying. Debbie actually seemed to care about him having a good day. His father never had been interested enough to ask. "It was okay. John and I checked on some projects his crews are working on."
"That's good. Are you bored yet?" she asked with a grin.
"Bored?" Peter repeated . He was surprised by her question.
"I like John Anderson a lot, but he's not the most fun person I've ever met."
Peter chuckled. He had come to that conclusion himself. "I like John a lot too. He's been great with me, but..." He hesitated to say what he was really thinking.
"But what...? Talk to me," Debbie demanded.
Peter shook his head. This 'talking' business was so new to him. He was used to keeping all his thoughts and feelings to himself. "Do I have to?" he asked with a crooked grin.
"You know I never give the fuck up," Debbie reminded him.
"Yeah, I know. I guess I might as well just talk."
"About time you reached that conclusion." She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. He didn't jump and pull his hand away as he had so many times when he first moved in with Debbie and Carl. "You've made real progress, Peter. Never forget that."
"You won't let me." He gave her an appreciative grin.
"You bet your ass I won't."
Peter chuckled. "You know I don't ever remember laughing with my father. I have so much to learn."
"And you're learning it... bit by bit every day."
"How can you be so sure?"
"We're having a civilized conversation, aren't we?"
"Yeah," Peter admitted with a smile. He decided to tell her what had just happened. "Patrick invited me to come to a celebration barbeque for dinner. He pitched a no-hitter today."
"Accomplished little fucker, isn't he," she said nodding her head in approval.
"I wish..."
"What?"
"It doesn't matter," Peter said with a sigh.
"It does matter and I think I know what you were going to say."
"You think you know, huh?"
"I do," Debbie said with a smile.
"So tell me."
"You wish you were good at something like Patrick is at baseball." Peter's mouth dropped open. She had nailed it in one try. "Told ya," Debbie teased.
"No wonder I think I'm in the twilight zone here. You are spooky."
"Twilight zone, huh? What do you know about the twilight zone?" Debbie asked with a frown creasing her brow. Peter was too young to know anything about the old TV show called The Twilight Zone.
"I spent a lot of time by myself for most of my life. I watched this old TV show on one of the weird stations we could get. It was in black and white, and sometimes it was really scary."
"Yeah, it was," Debbie agreed.
"You've seen it?"
"Hell, I was around when it first came out."
"How old are you?" Peter asked with big eyes.
"Old enough to give you a smack upside the head, if you start in about my age."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Peter said with mock contrition.
"Good."
Peter thought for a minute then decided that he should apologize. "I didn't mean to upset you, Debbie. I shouldn't have mentioned your age."
"I was teasing you, Peter. Relax. Everybody knows I'm older than dirt," Debbie cackled.
Peter burst out laughing too, partly in relief, but also at Debbie's choice of words. Then his face sobered. "See, I can't even tell when people are serious or teasing. I can't do anything right."
"Oh, pssst!" Debbie reacted. "I'm just really good at pretending to be fucking offended. You wouldn't believe all the things that has got me over the years, especially from Carl."
Peter stared at her for a moment, then shook his head and chuckled. Nobody could keep him off kilter like Debbie could. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Everybody could keep him off kilter. He never seemed to know where he stood with people.
"Maybe I shouldn't go to that barbeque tonight," Peter said uncertainly.
"Why the fuck not?" Debbie demanded.
"I ... I don't fit in."
"And how the fuck do you think you're going to fit in, if you never participate?"
"I..." Peter really didn't know how to answer that.
"You're going, and you're going to have a good time!"
"You don't know that."
"I most certainly do."
"But..."
"I know all the people who live on this lane, and they're all good people. And believe it or not, you're a good person too, Peter Chang. So, you're going to that barbeque and you're going to have a good time, and everyone's going to make sure you do ... or ... I'll break their faces."
"Yes, sir!" Peter said with a salute and an enigmatic grin.
"Hey, I'm not sir, you little asshole. Call me madam."
"But of course, madam," Peter joked.
Debbie smiled. "That's good, Peter. You can joke and have fun like everybody else. Try to relax and enjoy yourself."
"Easy for you to say."
"And it will get easier for you too as time goes on."
"Is that a guarantee?"
"You bet it is, kiddo."
"I'm glad you're so sure."
"I am," Debbie said sincerely. "Have faith."
"I'll try."
Debbie sighed. It was no easy task getting Peter to have faith in himself. "Go have a shower and get ready to go."
As Peter headed for the shower Carl came in from the patio.
"You heard?" Debbie asked. Carl nodded. "Do you think I got the fuck through to him?"
Carl shrugged. "It's difficult to tell with that lad. He's made a lot of progress since he's been with us, but there's still quite a way to go."
"I know," Debbie said shaking her head slowly. "Some of the time I wonder if we can really help Peter."
"And the rest of the time?"
"I want to throttle that fucking father of his. He sure did a number on his son."
"I'll help you throttle him and then I'll kick him in the balls," Carl declared. "Incompetent and harmful fathers like that should be put in jail."
"If only we could have done that before he screwed up his son."
"He should have never had a child."
"Yeah, but we don't have retroactive birth control ... unfortunately."
"Then we wouldn't have Peter at all, and I've kind of grown to like the kid," Carl said.
"In spite of yourself," Debbie chuckled.
Carl smiled. "In spite of my misgivings," he admitted. "All we can do now is our best to help him," Carl said trying to be philosophical about what they might be able to accomplish with the young man.
Debbie nodded. "I guess I better rustle up something for our dinner, since we weren't invited to this special barbeque."
"How could they leave an entertaining and witty couple like us out of the mix?" Carl joked.
"Fuck if I know," Debbie responded as she hustled into the kitchen.
It wasn't long before Peter came down the stairs. He had changed his clothes and looked quite handsome in crisp, clean jeans and a polo shirt.
"Looking good, kiddo," Debbie said when she saw him.
"You think I look okay?"
"Better than okay," Carl threw out.
"Are you coming on to me?" Peter asked with a shy grin.
Carl roared with laughter, and Debbie wasn't far behind.
"I better get going," Peter said. He headed for the door.
"Relax and enjoy yourself," Debbie called out to him before he closed the door behind him.
"He'll be fine," Carl told her.
"Did you hear him make that joke about you coming on to him?" Debbie asked. "That's the first time he's ever said anything like that."
"I told you we were making progress," Carl reminded her.
"Yeah, but he better keep his hands off my man."
The two laughed until they could barely stand up.