Leaves by Michael Baron

our fifteenth anniversary? It was such a huge deal, and now we’re just here on a Monday night. I know you miss Liv sometimes, Babe. I do too. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t loving what we have now. We have our whole lives in front of us. My work is stimulating, we can do whatever we want with our nights, we can walk around the house naked whenever we want – something I strongly recommend we do more of, by the way – and we can be so spontaneous.”
    Maria raised Doug’s hand to her lips and kissed it. He smiled at her fondly and then looked down at his menu.
    â€œDo you know what you’re having?” he said.
    â€œI’ve narrowed it down.”
    â€œLet me just take a look.”
    Maria watched him amusedly as he glanced through the menu and commented enthusiastically on several of the selections. It tickled her that Doug was embracing life with such brio these days. He’d made the transition to “empty nester” so easily. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Olivia or that he wanted her out the door. In fact, Maria knew that when Olivia came home for the party he would hang on to every moment they had together. But he was ready to face the rest of his life. For him, this was the reward for struggling through his early twenties with a baby and a mortgage – just turned forty, rippling with energy, and wise enough and worldly enough to enjoy it.
    Still, there was a tiny bit of Maria that was jealous of how smoothly Doug had moved on to the next stage. He wasn’t struggling over what to do with the rest of his life. He didn’t need to redefine himself. As wonderful as it was to see him having this much fun, it was also a reminder of how much work she had to do to get where he was.
    He closed his menu. “Baked oysters and then the filet,” he said. He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Then maybe a little port at home, some Marvin Gaye, some slow dancing, and who knows?” He moved toward her and kissed her lightly, seductively, on the lips.
    She really did love seeing him like this.

Six

Tuesday, October 12
Nineteen days before the party

    Maxwell remembered the first party thirty years ago more vividly than any other event in his childhood. It was the first time he’d concluded that his family was remarkable.
    He’d turned eight that summer and remembered the fall for his first organized football games and for the continuing quest to make it up the hill on Aspen Drive on his bicycle without stopping. Like presumably every other kid his age, he spent hours contemplating his Halloween costume and more hours than that anticipating the loot he would bring in when he went trick-or-treating. When his mother mentioned that the family was going to be throwing a huge party at the inn, he couldn’t help feeling cheated. Instead of ringing doorbells all over the neighborhood and collecting pounds of candy, he would give out treats instead. He had no way of knowing at that point that he was in for the time of his life – and more important, that many of the guests would bring candy for the Gold kids so that he would wind up with more than he ever had before.
    The family had always operated well together, a byproduct of two parents running a business out of their home. Chores were always executed efficiently, games organized and played smoothly, favors easily doled out and reciprocated. However, something kicked up a level as that Halloween approached. His mother and father seemingly designed the entire event not only to show guests a good time, but also to allow their own children to have as much fun as possible putting it together. Dad offered nightly updates on the progress of the plans while Mom solicited suggestions from each of the kids. Goodies to be served were “tested” weeks ahead of time and repeatedly offered to make sure they “got it right.” Secrets regarding surprise activities were shared as long as