All Night Long

Six months ago, like everyone else, I was focused on trying to help Luke adjust to life here in Santa Elena because I knew that’s what Uncle John, Dad and you thought would be best for him.
    But when I think back, I can see that maybe we were wrong to try to push him into the business and into marriage. Maybe all we were really doing was applying more pressure at a point in his life when that was the last thing he needed.”
    This time Irene flapped the napkin in Katy’s face, instead of Vicki’s. “Don’t go there, either. There’s no call to blame yourselves for urging Luke to join the business, get married and act normal. For a while,
    that was what he thought he wanted. Trust me, if Luke hadn’t been on board with the plan, it wouldn’t have gotten as far as it did. Or haven’t you noticed that he isn’t very easy to manipulate?”
    Katy smiled wryly. “None of the males in this family are easily manipulated.”
    Vicki made a face. “Stubborn and hardheaded, every last one of them.”
    Irene put the napkin back in her lap. “Luke knows what he’s doing.” At that moment she caught sigh f him making his way across the restaurant toward her. “Oops, gotta go. There’s my ride.”
    “What?” Katy turned and saw Luke. “Uh-oh. I’ve got a feeling the intervention didn’t go well.”
    Vicki watched Luke with an anxious expression. “Dr. Van Dyke told John that the intervention would last at least an hour and that she hoped to take Luke immediately into a private therapy session afterward.”
    “Someone should have warned Dr. Van Dyke that Luke usually has his own agenda,” Irene said.
    Luke reached the table and halted. “Morning, ladies. Nice day for an intervention, isn’t it?” He looked at Irene. “Don’t know about you, but I’ve had my fun. Time to leave.”
    “I was pretty sure you were going to say that.” Irene jumped to her feet and seized a fresh napkin.
    “Hang on a sec.”
    She spread the napkin on the table, picked up the bread basket and dumped the remaining muffins into the center of the linen square. Working quickly she folded the goodies into the napkin and knotted the ends.
    The waiter appeared with a takeout container. “Your omelet ma’am. There’s a plastic knife and for nd some napkins, too.”
    “Right on time, thanks.” Irene took the container from him, grabbed her coat off the back of the chair, slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and smiled at Luke. “I’m ready.”
    “Let’s go,” he said.
    Jason, Hackett, Gordon and John hurried across the restaurant. A woman wearing a tweed suit an hoes that had obviously been designed for comfort, not style, followed in their wake. Dr. Van Dyke, Irene thought.
    “Luke, wait,” John ordered.
    “Sorry, Dad.” Luke steered Irene toward the door. “We’ve got some things to do in the city.”
    The woman in the tweed suit loomed directly in front of Irene, accusation radiating from her in waves.
    “You are enabling his behavior,” the woman said quietly.

    “Not exactly,” Irene said. “Luke pretty much does his own thing.”
    “I know you want what is best for him. We all do. That’s why I’m here.”
    Irene glanced quickly around at the circle of concerned faces, trying to think of something she could say that would reassure all these people who obviously cared so much about Luke. Inspiration struck.
    “If it helps,” she said, “I can assure you that there’s no need to worry about Luke’s erectile dysfunction problems.”
    “Irene,” Luke muttered, “If you don’t mind—”
    “He’s definitely normal in that department,” Irene continued quickly, eager to make her point. “Actually, he’s a lot bigger than normal.”
    A great hush had fallen across the entire restaurant. It dawned on her that everyone was staring at he s though mesmerized.
    Jason grinned. “Boy, howdy.”
    Bigger
, she thought, had been an unfortunate choice of words.
    “I mean
better
than normal,” she said quickly.
    She could tell immediately that the hasty rephrasing wasn’t quite right, either.
    “I feel a little faint,” she said to Luke.
    “That’s funny I feel like I just fell into a pharmaceutical commercial,” he said. “I believe this is one of those situations that call for a strategic retreat.”
    “Yes, please.”
    He hauled her forcefully toward the door, pausing long enough to collect the umbrella from a wide-eyed Brenda.
    A few seconds later Irene found herself outside in the