I’m riding such an unbelievable cloud of bliss and hormones when I go to Justin’s for family dinner that I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do that’ll kill my endorphins.

Boy, am I ever wrong.

The second I enter with my customary bottle of Trader Joe’s wine, I know something’s off. There’s this weird smell in the air, and an even stranger noise. That’s when I realize: the smell is the lack of cooking, and the noise is the lack of…well, noise. With three kids in a house, quiet is one of the things you don’t get. But Sebastian’s not cooing and gurgling, Sage isn’t running around hopped up on sugar, and Sawyer’s not on the phone with her best friend. It’s dead silent, almost.

And Justin’s sitting on the couch staring at the coffee table with his head in his hands. Mom, Dad, and Lily, meanwhile, are all sort of awkwardly gathered around him. Lily’s patting his shoulder.

Oh shit. “Hi, can someone fill me in on what happened and how serious it is before I have a heart attack?” I slam the bottle on the coffee table and sit on the other side of Justin. He’s not crying; he just looks like someone gave him a shot of the good morphine, the type they keep for professional use after the patients have all passed out.

Mom clucks her tongue and fiddles with her pearls. “I always said that Charlotte was just bad news, sweetheart.”

My whole body freezes, like cryogenically frozen Walt Disney head levels of freeze. Did Charlotte leave him? Did she have an affair? Who is going to be my teammate in family Trivial Pursuit? What’s going to happen to the kids? And how awful is it that I thought of Trivial Pursuit before the children? Though can you blame me when Charlotte is the fount of all knowledge and focus, Emma.

“What happened?” I squeeze Justin’s shoulder, which finally seems to get him out of his stupor.

“Charlotte just took the kids to her parents’ house for a few days. That’s all.” He says it in friendly robovoice, like there’s not something more, well, more going on here. Mom harrumphs and clacks those pearls with a frantic pace. Dad, meanwhile, is doing a crossword puzzle. Normally I let my dad go wander into the haze of his own imagination during tense family moments, but this time I’m getting annoyed.

“Dad. What do you think of this?” I ask. He blinks and looks up; he always pays a little more attention when I’m here.

“I think they’ll be back at the end of the weekend, like Justin said.” Turning his eyes back to the puzzle, he mutters, “Nice that someone finally asked me.” That leads to more throat clearing and pearl strangling from Mom. I swear, it’s like Chekhov’s Modern Family in this place. Next thing you know someone will start whining about going to Moscow, and someone else will talk about how sad it is to watch ducks at the park.

“Of course, I know what’s going on.” Mom sniffs, gearing up for some dramatic monologue. She likes those. “Ever since they shoved you out of the firm—”

“Mom. Please not today.” But Justin’s words have fallen on deaf Delia Brightman ears. Mom has very selective hearing. Pleas for mercy uttered from two feet away? Deaf as a stone. One of her daughters sneaking a Hostess cupcake in the middle of the night? She appears down the stairs in her bathrobe, cautioning them about getting past a size six and winding up alone with eight cats.

I never knew why the number was always eight. It was so exact. Also, those cupcakes were delicious.

“Justin, darling, you know what happens when a man can’t provide financially and sexually for the woman in his life.” She darts a glare at Dad, and I consider banging my head against the coffee table until I forget that sentence was uttered. “She leaves him for greener pastures. And despite the baby weight and her age, Charlotte’s not that bad looking.”

Justin’s face flushes; Mom has crossed a line, and he is about to get mad. I stand, and Lily stands with me, I think just for something to do.

“Hey, here’s an idea. Mom, why don’t you go rustle up some Valium in the kitchen, have one, and then order Thai. Lily, why don’t you and Dad go help her? I want to talk to Justin for a minute.”

“Okay.” Lily speeds out of the room as fast as her impractical heels can carry her. She clacks urgently all the way to the kitchen, where she’ll presumably hide in the fridge. Dad gets up, while Mom blinks at me in bewilderment. That’s right, Mom. The middle child can speak.

“I was just going to tell Justin—”

“Something you’ll regret if you don’t back off right now.” Whoa. The words are out before I can think about them. And they feel good. Like cupcake sneaking, ice cream eating, cheat day indulging good. And they won’t put any weight on your hips, either. Life’s perfect little miracles. “Give us a minute. Okay?”

And it works. Dad leads Mom out of the room. She follows him numbly, like she can’t believe what just happened to her. Hell, what did just happen? It was so wonderfully out of character for me. I just summoned up the need to cut to the chase…kind of like Fraser. Hmm. Maybe he’s having more of an effect on me than mere multiple orgasms. Not that those aren’t my favorite, but still. It’s another incredible quality of his. Even when he’s not here, he’s helping me out.

“That was kind of amazing.” Justin looks at me like I sprouted wings and started flapping them indoors. Probably bad luck, like opening an umbrella inside. What the hell am I talking about? Back to reality.

“Okay. What happened?” I slip off my shoes and curl up on the couch.

“I lost my job. We were worried about money. She got fed up. She left.” Justin rubs his forehead. Now I know Charlotte—not as well as my brother does, because that…that would mean seeing each other naked, among other things. Point is, she’s not a gold digger. She’s not a pampered housewife. She’s proven she can pull her own financial weight when things are tough. So I know in my heart this isn’t about money. Which means it’s about Justin.

“Why’d she get fed up? Specifically.”

“Specifically, she told me I was letting this kick my ass and I wasn’t doing anything to stop it. Then she started crying. Then she packed up the kids.” Justin rubs his eyes. His hair’s mussed. He’s still wearing his workout clothes, which means that they must have had the argument when he came in from jogging and he hasn’t bothered to change. Which also means he is a man in desperate need of a shower.

Justin’s like my dad in this way. Total sweetheart, good father, but can’t pull himself up when bad things come. That must’ve freaked Charlotte out pretty hardcore, because now they have three kids to worry about.

Normally, I’d offer some goofy advice and dance around to make him laugh. You know, typical Emma stuff. That and drink a lot of Fireball whiskey and do bad impressions of famous cartoon characters. You have not lived until you’ve seen me and tequila take on Daffy Duck.

But again, my thoughts creep back to Fraser and his glowering ‘total honesty’ policy. He doesn’t see me as just a funny, dorky, kind of ridiculous person. Well, he sees that a lot, but he sees more: someone who can deal and be dealt with like an adult.

Most people don’t see that much nuance in me, it’s true. But he does. And it makes me realize something. I know a lot more about people and relationships than I typically think I do. Probably has to do with reading all those self-help guides to get me through. Only this time, it’s not Oprah or Dr. Phil or Blaire Lavender talking to me. It’s me talking. Just me.

“Jus, do you think she left because of the money, or because she wants you to make her feel safe? Because those are two different things, dude.”

Justin blinks like I just electrocuted him. On a small scale, of course. He must’ve been prepared for Emma’s Wacky Routine. Hell, we’re all braced for that at all times.

“I suppose it’s not the money. Charlotte doesn’t care that much about it. She never has.”

“Right.” I put an arm around his shoulders. “I guarantee that if you can show Charlotte that you’re not letting this firing get you down and are kicking ass and trying to take names, she’ll calm down a lot. She just needs to feel like she’s not the only one trying to keep the family afloat. I know her, and so do you.”

Justin’s brow unfurrows, and his expression clears. He breathes out, a deep sigh that sounds like relief. “I was so embarrassed in front of her. I guess I shut down.”

“Right. And knowing Charlotte, that was the last thing she needed.”

Justin rubs his face. “You’re right. Completely.”

“So.” I knock my head against his shoulder. Sibling affection looks a lot like canine camaraderie. “Call her up, tell her you’re ready to talk about what happens next. Lay out a plan for who you’re going to call; hell, ask Charlotte to help. Get her input, don’t keep her at a distance. This’ll all be fixed in no time.”

Justin shakes his head in seeming amazement. “When you put it like that, Em, it seems so clear.” Finally, the tautness leaves his face. He smiles, and my brother has one of the top ten worldwide killer smiles. There is science behind this. “Okay. Tell the folks I had to.” He pauses and looks at his clothes, like it’s the first time he’s seeing them today. “First I got to take a shower, then I’ll call Charlotte.”

“And I’ll get the Thai food ordered. No worries.” I practically shove Justin off the couch, and watch him head for the bathroom with a noticeable lift to his shoulders. Sometimes, all you need is a hug and someone to tell you what’s wrong with the deepest, darkest part of you. And if you’re lucky, there’ll be panang curry afterwards.

Justin is just that lucky today.

I head for the kitchen, where I find Lily huddled in the doorway. Pretty clear she’s been listening in on the conversation. She gives me a look that is somewhere between appreciation and wide-eyed shock.

“I didn’t know you were so, like, good at talking to people,” she says. Aw. That’s…sad.

“I mean I have been talking since 1987,” I remind her. Well, maybe 86, but only if you count ‘tweety’ and ‘donkey race’ as conversation. Which apparently I did at eighteen months. Grinning, I give Lily a hug. “But yeah. I’m impressed with myself too.”

And here comes Mom to ruin the whole thing. Right on schedule.

“I’m amazed you were able to reach your brother, sweetie.” She laughs, the kind of laugh that signals an incoming joke at Emma’s expense. I’ve had years to get used to that laugh. “Sometimes I forget you don’t have a man in your life. You handle them so well!”

Ah, what a ‘joke,’ and by that I mean insult. Again, I imagine Fraser’s brooding, surly, glowering, manly—did I say brooding?—face. He wouldn’t take this kind of nonsense. So, squaring my shoulders, I reply. Oh, do I reply.

“Mom.” I never stop smiling. “You’re going to stop doing that whole ‘old maid, unmarried’ joke thing you do, okay? Because it hurts my feelings, and you know it does, and I’m not going to let you get away with it anymore. Okay?”

Mom pales under her perfectly applied makeup, but then does that beaming recovery thing she’s so good at. “Oh, Emmy. I know you’re so sensitive about—”

“Uh uh.” I shake my head. Still smiling, folks. “You’re not passing this off. The passive aggressive stuff stops right now. Whatever problem you’ve got with me not being married, that’s something that you’ve got an issue with. Stop taking it out on me. Now. Who ordered the food?”

Mom looks like if you tipped her over, she’d fall to the ground and shatter into a million pieces. Is this what snorting cocaine back in the 80s felt like? Unstoppable power and Billy Idol songs playing loud in your head? Man, no wonder people liked that stuff. Cocaine, I mean, not Billy Idol. I’m not sure why “White Wedding” started playing in my subconscious, actually.

But I’m into it.

“I ordered.” Lily puts up her hand like we’re in class. Dad, meanwhile, has looked up from his crossword with an expression of beaming delight.

“Great! Justin’s freshening up. I’m going to open the wine.” Grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer and a few glasses from the cupboard, I head back into the living room. If I were wearing only my socks, I’d be sliding across the hardwood floor right now. Both because that’s a ton of fun no matter your age, and because I did it. I put Mom in her place, and got Justin’s head in the game.

As I start pouring the finest wine that six dollars can buy, I think about it. Maybe I’m better at life advice than I thought. Maybe I’ve found a talent I didn’t know I had.

And maybe a lot of it’s due to a certain Fraser Drake.

Mmm, however am I going to thank him?

(Hint: it involves sex.)