“Dan, I’ve left reasonable portions of healthy food for you in the freezer. All you have to do is reheat them in the oven at three hundred twenty-five degrees for about twenty minutes. And for God’s sake, don’t forget to turn off the oven. I don’t want to come home to find the house burned down.”

“I think I’ve grasped the concept of reheating food, dear. Now just get on the plane and don’t worry about a thing.”

“That’s right, Ellen. We’ve got it covered.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, Jack Elliot.” Julie, Jack’s wife, looked at both of us skeptically. “The last time I let you cook anything, we had to repaint the kitchen.”

“Hell, honey, I thought blackened salmon referred to the fish, not the ceiling.”

“That was quite the stunt, buddy.” I had helped him repaint, so I felt I had carte blanche to rib him about it.

“Traitor.” Jack turned to me and scowled.

“Last call for Delta flight seventy-three with non-stop service to Paris.”

The girls giggled with unrepressed excitement.

“Better get on board, ladies.”

One final round of hugs and tips on how to survive their absence, and they were gone. Jack’s better half had won an all expenses paid trip to Europe for two in a raffle the previous Christmas. She and Jack had been planning to get away for almost a year, but when the time came for them to go, all hell broke loose at the office. That meant everyone was stuck with mandatory overtime. That also meant there was no way Jack’s boss was going to let him go on vacation in the foreseeable future. The trip voucher was about to expire, so Julie asked my wife Ellen to go instead. Ellen had always wanted to travel abroad, and I’d never given a damn about the idea. We talked it over and figured it would be the perfect time for her to go because she wasn’t planning to teach summer school this year. So the girls were off to foreign shores, and we guys were going to fend for ourselves.

“Well, there they go.” Jack turned to me with a mischievous grin plastered on his face as the big jet lifted off the runway and disappeared into the low level cloud cover. “We’re on our own for two whole weeks, good buddy. How about I buy you a beer to celebrate our holiday bachelor status?”

“You’re on, man. I sure as hell hope we can survive on our own for that long.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jack threw his arm across my shoulders, and we walked back along the busy concourse. “I know the girls both think we can’t open a can of tuna without their expert help, but I figure we can get along just fine and dandy by ourselves.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You and Julie have only been hitched for less than three years. Wait until you’re my age. After twenty years of marriage, it’s not so easy to slide back into bachelor mode.”

“I’m sorry, gramps.” Jack’s voice morphed to a wispy quaver. “Let’s get you back to the rest home and drape a rug across your knees before you collapse.”

“Up yours!” I jammed my elbow into his ribs and pulled his baseball cap down low over his eyes. “For that crack, you owe me all the beer I can drink. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”