Die Again Tomorrow by Kira Peikoff

Adam called after her, following behind with Emily. “Hi, Mom.”
    â€œHi, guys.” Joan set down Sophia and kissed her son and daughter-in-law on the cheek. Adam was a young doppel-gänger of Greg, tall and slender, with a full head of wavy brown hair and her own lively blue eyes. Emily was petite, blond, curvy, and just as sweet as her dimpled smile implied. Seeing them, Joan felt reassured. How lucky she was! Many of her friends’ kids had moved far away to raise children, relegating their relationships to weekly Skype chats. But you couldn’t have tickle wars through a screen, or teach a toddler to walk, or feel the weight of a small body sleeping in your arms. No matter what was happening with Greg, these three were always there; they lived in a darling one-bedroom apartment just ten blocks away.
    â€œWhere did your father go?” she asked Adam.
    Just then, Greg walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray of wineglasses and an uncorked bottle of Merlot. He briefly acknowledged her with a peck on the cheek before turning to the others.
    â€œSit, sit,” he said. “The night is young. I thought we could start with an aperitif.”
    The breeziness in his voice sounded forced, but if anyone besides Joan noticed, they didn’t show it.
    â€œSounds good,” Adam said. They all settled into the comfortable L-shaped leather sofa. As Greg set down the tray on the coffee table, Joan moved his laptop to the nearby desk. She noticed with relief that there was no evidence on the screen of her attempted log-ins. Then she opened a drawer in the coffee table and handed Sophia a coloring book and crayons, while he poured wine for the adults.
    â€œHey, so can you guys believe what the Dow did this week?” Adam shifted in his seat. “I feel like maybe we should pull out of our stocks. Things are getting kind of crazy.”
    â€œNah, it could still turn around,” Greg said, pouring himself an ample amount of wine. “Just give it more time. I think all the talk of a crash is premature.”
    Joan felt a tightening in her stomach. According to Greg’s recovery program, he was supposed to stay away from all narcotics, but enough years had passed that he occasionally indulged in a few ounces of alcohol. She cast a disapproving glance his way, but he avoided her gaze and took a sip.
    â€œFor now,” Adam allowed. “But if banks start going under, then we’re really in trouble.”
    â€œOh, forget all that,” Joan said, waving off the topic like an annoying fly. “It’s the weekend. Stock market’s closed. Can’t we all just relax?” She tried to trade a look with Emily— men and their money worries— but her daughter-in-law just smiled feebly and smoothed a wrinkle on her blue cotton dress.
    Adam cleared his throat and took Emily’s hand. Her face was a shade too white, Joan noticed, but a small smile was tickling her lips.
    â€œThe thing is,” he said, “we actually can’t afford to ignore it.” He took a breath.
    â€œWe’re moving,” Emily blurted.
    Joan’s gaze darted to Sophia, who was scribbling happily on the floor, then back to Adam and Emily. “You can’t be serious.”
    He pursed his lips in apology. “I’m afraid so.”
    No more mornings with Sophia visiting the park jungle gym. Joan lived for those mornings. Now she would have to take a train to some far-flung place. The Hudson River Valley, or maybe Jersey City. That was where the young people flocked these days.
    â€œWhy?” Greg asked. “Where?”
    Adam hesitated, biting his lip. “Kansas.”
    â€œLike the Wizard of Oz!” Sophia piped up with glee.
    Joan stared at her son. Greg set down his glass. He looked as shaken as she felt.
    â€œIt’s so much cheaper there,” Adam went on, “and Emily’s parents will be nearby, so we’ll still have some family at least . .