"Hey, Uncle Melvin," said Tina flashing him a set a pearly white teeth. How old would she be now? Nineteen? She had grown up quite a bit since the last time that Melvin had seen her. She wore short white shorts and a tight pink tank top, a silver star decorating the curve of her chest. She had dressed for a sunny summer day, but the storm outside had ruined any chance of that. Tina's curly blonde hair was pulled back and was held together by a pencil on the top of her head, and her eyes were a shimmering dark blue. Melvin remembered that like Abigail, Tina had been a head cheerleader during high school; Abigail had often bragged about Tina following in her footsteps. Melvin felt sorry for her.

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"Tina, how are you?" Melvin said, returning her smile.

"Just great."

"You look wonderful," Abigail cut in, demanding Melvin's attention. Her hand floated through the air and rested on his wrist. Her fingers gingerly wrapped around him, a gesture of an affectionate lover. Melvin chanced a glance at Richie and saw that Richie's eyes were glued to Abigail's hand on his wrist. Richie looked up and gave Melvin a disgusted look. Richie figured Abigail was already trying to play him like a fiddle, but what Richie didn't know was that Melvin would be doing the only playing of anyone today. Abigail may have a fiddle, but Melvin was the composer. Melvin faced her.

"So do you. Better than I remember," he said, turning up his charm level to eleven. He placed his free hand over her hand and patted it. In return, he felt her squeeze his wrist. It was as if they had never split up. But not really. Abigail had never been so friendly to him. In the old days, she had treated him with a mixture of disdain and embarrassment, and she had hated the fact that she had to marry such a dork to live the kind of life she deserved. What had changed since then? What made her treat Melvin like a human being for once in her life? The love juice. Melvin allowed a finger to tap Abigail's wedding band.