The barbecued chicken Eric brings in from the patio smells divine. Thank God Eric was in charge. The last time Christopher barbecued the only aroma was that of lighter fluid and burnt fish. So much smoke was created that it set off the detector, causing the kids to flee in a screaming panic that had the neighbors calling the fire department.

“Ack!” An accidental taste from the wrong pot of beans makes my taste buds cringe. “England you never disappoint.” Grabbing two bowls of baked beans, I head into the dining room where everyone has gathered. Imported beans, straight from the can, are placed near Christopher. The homemade ones are placed near me.