“It’s nice meeting you too, sir,” Sam said politely, looking up into friendly brown eyes.

“Chase, why don’t you give your friend here a tour of the place and then we’ll all sit down to dinner,” Mable offered.

Doing as her mother directed, C.C. gave Sam a modest tour of the home. By the time they had finished, dinner was on the table.

For the amount of chattering and carrying on that was present in the kitchen earlier, dinner itself was a rather quiet affair. Sam had absolutely no idea why C.C. had felt it important to ‘warn her’, as she had put it.

With the main courses of the dining experience over, Sam waited for the right time to speak up. “Thank you very much for dinner, Mrs. Gordon. The pot roast was delicious,” Sam complimented as she placed her napkin on the table.

“You’re welcome, dear, anytime. And, thank you. I’m glad you liked it.” She turned her eyes away from Sam to look at her husband who was at the opposite end of the table. “Henry, would you clear the table for dessert?” Mable asked her husband.

“Of course, Dear,” Henry replied as he stood and began to clear away all of the dinner dishes.

“Need any help, Dad?” C.C. offered as she watched her father make his way to every woman seated at the table.

Henry rolled his eyes at his youngest daughter before replying, “You know better, Chase.”

Sam felt as if she were missing something. Although she thought it was great that Mr. Gordon was waiting on his family, hand and foot, she still found it a tad unusual.

Terri noticed the look of confusion on their guest’s face and offered to explain. “Don’t worry about Dad, Sam. We girls and Mom get together for Sunday dinner at least once a month. Dad’s only been allowed to join us for the last couple of years. He complained about having to eat TV dinners while we were having a wonderful home cooked meal, so Mom made him a deal: he could stay and join our dinners but he had to wait on us.”

I wonder what my dad would do? Sam considered her father as she went from one face to another of all the women seated at the table.

Henry did as his wife asked of him and before long, returned with a stack of plates and an apple pie. Mable addressed her daughters on the topic they had been discussing earlier in the day. Henry placed the dessert in front of his wife and then continued to serve the remaining women at the table.

“Thank you, Henry. Come on, girls, someone has to know of a nice woman for your sister. You know, one that could settle her down a bit?”

Brooke groaned as she placed her glass back on the table. Once you got their mother started on something, she never let it go. “Mom, I really don’t think that’s necessary.” Brooke really did not feel like having this discussion now.

“Nonsense. What kind of girl do you like, Brooke? What catches your eye?”

All Brooke could do was look at her mother, speechless at her choice of topic for an after-dinner conversation especially with company present.

Sam let a smile cross her face and the barest of twinkles grace her eyes. Well, I guess I know which sister bats for my team, now.

“Well, I don’t think it’s the butch kind,” Randi offered as Terri nodded her head in agreement.

They all watched as Brooke’s face turned redder by the moment. Only one question remained on their minds: was it due to embarrassment or anger?

“No, the butch type would be way too much competition for Ol’ Brooke.” C.C. sat back in her chair and offered her thoughts on the subject.

Randi looked over to the object of their conversation, giving her a once over with those soft brown eyes of hers. “Well, with a build like that, she’s no Karen Carpenter but she would give Chyna a run for her money.”

The youngest sibling placed her fork on the table and looked up, confused. “What do Chinese carpenters have to do with this?”

Terri laughed at her sister as she replied, “Before your time, C.C.”

“Actually, C.C., Karen Carpenter was a great drummer.” Sam decided to jump into the conversation and leaned into the table as she looked from her roommate to Terri and back again.

Brooke lifted her head and arched an eyebrow in the girl’s direction. “You’re familiar with drummers?” Brooke asked.

“Oh yeah. I love hearing great women pound out the beat of their hearts. I’ve listened to music all my life. The women drummers never get any fame.” She emphasized that statement with a firm shaking of her head.

“So, you like women drummers, Sam?” Terri asked nonchalantly as she took a bite of her apple pie, her brown eyes darting briefly to Brooke then back to her plate.

“Yes, I do. Very much. It’s amazing to watch how much strength they have when behind a kit…I mean a drum set, yet they can still be so graceful as they play.”

“Well, maybe some women drummers don’t get any fame because they’d rather not have to deal with the hassle that comes along with it. They’d rather just play instead,” Brooke offered.

Sam turned her gaze to Brooke. “Well, let’s just say that they never get the credit they deserve. They just seem to fade into thin air. Like ghosts in the night,” the blonde held her fist up in the air and opened it as though she was releasing something into the air. “They are there for a minute and gone the next.” The young woman let her gaze go off into the distance as if she could see them all waiting to be plucked from the heavens.

Brooke was speechless at how emotionally Sam spoke on the subject.

“My, my… I see we have a little poet in our midst,” Henry commented. “Maybe some of that will rub off on our C.C. during the next year or so.” The man winked at his daughter as he brought the coffee cup to his lips.

“But you know… I have to admit that the best drummer, male or female, in my book was…”

Sam was interrupted as Henry jumped up from the table, having spilled his coffee on his shirt. “Oh, damn, excuse me. I’ll be right back.” Henry made his way out of the dining room, leaving his coffee cup and wiping the brown spot on his shirt with his napkin.

“Honey, there are some clean shirts folded on the dryer,” Mable called after her husband then turned back to her daughters. “Now, come on, one of you has to know of a nice girl for Brooke. How about you, Sam? Are you single, available or interested?”

Sam’s face turned an impossible shade of red as she realized that her own sexual preference was now being drawn into the conversation. The girl turned looking to her roommate and then back at the matriarch. At the same time, the sudden turnabout caught Brooke in mid swallow and she choked on her iced tea.

The older woman sensed the action on the periphery of the table. “What? She’s not too young for you is she, Brooke?” Mable asked her flustered child.

“Well, ah… no, Mom, it’s not that. It’s just…”

She was cut off as Mable addressed Sam again. “Do you have any experience, dear? But then again, if you don’t you can be molded just like their father. I must admit that he has quite mastered the art of curling his tongue…”

“Mom!” All four daughters yelled in unison at their mother.

“What?” she asked them innocently then turned back to the blonde, unscathed. “So, Sam, tell me, what kind of women do you like?”

Sam was saved from answering the question as Henry reappeared back into the dining room and took his place at the head of the table, wearing a clean shirt.

“Dad, can you roll your tongue?” C.C. asked her father as her sisters glared in her direction.

“Why?” he asked, clearly confused.

“Oh, nothing. Just something Mom mentioned that I was wondering about.”

“Dad, you don’t have to answer that one.” Brooke arched her eyebrow and gave her sister a look that told her to be quiet. “C.C.,” she warned through a clenched mouth.

“What?” The youngest daughter tried to defend herself. “It’s a perfectly innocent question. I was just wondering if the tongue rolling gene is an inherited trait.”

C.C. was cut off as her mother placed a hand on her arm. Mable turned to the other side of the table where her other daughters were seated. “Don’t think that I don’t know when you girls are trying to change the subject on me. Brooke, I asked you a question.”

“Yeah, Brooke,” the pediatrician glanced from Sam to their sister, “what is your type? That way we can all keep an eye open.” Terri offered.

Brooke sighed heavily as she wondered if she’d ever make it out of the house without her mother going back to this topic. She looked over at Terri and answered, “The non-nosey kind. You know, the complete opposite of C.C.”

“Hey, I’m not nosey. I just like to be in on the news. Enquiring minds want to know,” C.C. defended herself as Sam just sat back and snickered quietly over the whole situation.

“Yeah, well inquire somewhere else, Sis. This tabloid is keeping its secrets.” Brooke shot back, her eyes glaring an undisputed warning.

“Now, girls…” Henry felt it was time he tried to calm down the situation.

Brooke and C.C. both looked at their father and apologized without hesitation. “Sorry, Dad.” The phrase sounded like one that was well rehearsed over time.

Mable looked down at her eldest daughter who was sitting on Henry’s right side. “Can’t you find someone, Randi?”

“I did. I married him and gave you three grandkids.” The confident woman answered without missing a beat. Randi really wasn’t in the mood at the moment to joke around. She’d had a rough week in court and was getting tired of the petty squabbling going on between her sisters.

“I don’t think she means for you.” Terri chastised her oldest sister.