“Does your mom like wine?”“She didn’t used to drink it often, but she drinks it more lately. She’s been teaching me how to pair wine with f...od.”“What is her favorite wine?”“Pinot noir,” he answered.“Why don’t you save some of the money she gives you from your paycheck and buy her a really nice bottle of Pinot Noir? If you don’t know what to get, you can ask if there is a wine steward at the store to give you a recommendation.”By now I was ready to end the charade. Two weeks later my son. Music drifted to us through a small stereo I had setup on the back porch. A warm breeze swept only a minute portion of the Texas heat away from us. We both sat there eating and sweating.It had been months since my trip to New York. My interview in the early morning hours on the outskirts of the city had been played repeatedly. I had become a household name. Certainly not my intention at the time, but like anyone who does their duty, others seemed only to want to show their appreciation.Proving. The interior of Lady Cordelia’s castle was impressive in Rowena’s opinion because it had a lot more finery and valuable furnishings lacking in her father’s modest estate. Of course, the years in the Holy Land and the ravages of constant harassment by the minions of the Sheriff in search of expanded tax revenues whittled away the generations-old collection of personal property all sold by the tax collector without permission of the absentee owner. Rowena was too young to understand the process. Will pushed him back, knocking him against the chair, which fell over. Ryan's books fell onto the floor, his binder opening and papers spilling out."Look what you fucking did!" he screamed at his brothers. "Get out of my room!" Stupid brat!" Robby yelled at Will, kicking him in the legs."You're the brat!" cried Will."You're both brats!" Ryan yelled. "I told you, get the fuck out of my room!" I'm not a brat!" Will cried."Yes you are! Now get out! I never said you could come in here! Get out.