Lucy Scott’s Grand Stand. Alan Sorem

looked at her glass. It was empty. So was mine. She reached for the bottle and we finished it off.

      “Cheers.”

      I nodded. We drank.

      Silence, broken at last by Daisy.

      “You ever watch that Ellen show on television?”

      “No.”

      “She had some female couples on last week.”

      “Oh?”

      We sipped.

      “Your daughter still living with that woman with a funny name?”

      “It’s a good, strong, old-fashioned name. Prudence.”

      “Oh. Well, are Sophie and Prudence living together or are they living together?”

      “It’s their business.”

      “Sure, sure.”

      She emptied her glass and twirled the stem.

      “Any more wine?”

      “I think there’s a Pinot Grigio on the bottom shelf in the back.”

      Daisy rose and walked carefully to the ‘frig. She rummaged on the bottom shelf and drew a bottle out. As she stood she looked at my drying rack by the sink.

      “Finally did your dishes, huh?”

      “I had to do something physical. Young Jim was making sarcastic comments about me on the phone to Sophie.”

      Daisy picked up the bottle opener she’d used before and extracted the cork with a “pop”. She walked back to the table and surveyed our glasses. Hers was empty. Mine was half-full.

      “Want a new glass?”

      “No. Just more dishes to wash.”

      “I’ll help.”

      “Thank you.”

      I drank the rest of mine down and gestured at the bottle.

      “One more. That’s it. I don’t want to be stewed when Fred comes.”