The sibs meet for... lunch? I guess? At their usual diner. Y'all, sometimes the freestyle banter really gets on my nerves. Anyway, Julia mentions that she has called Timm and that they'll be meeting for second lunch to discuss the real estate deal. "What's a second lunch?" Crosby asks. Julia says it's something you do when you don't wear shorts to work. Uh, I have never had a job where I wore shorts to work (except this one, to which I don't even wear shorts, har har) and I have never heard of "second lunch." Does Julia work for a Hobbit law firm? The Firm of Baggins, Took and... Crookshanks? What? I couldn't think of one. (Oh, all right, I am kidding. I love all those books and the films, full-on nerd-style.) Anyway, Google is no help. Is this a real thing? At my last office, we called our 3 p.m. snack strike a second lunch. Incidentally, 3 p.m. is a deadly time of day in an office full of women. Julia, in any case, reiterates her determination to save Zeek and their parents' marriage. Meanwhile, Sarah shares the news about Camille's insistence that they clean their stuff out of the attic. Crosby immediately jumps on this, asking if that includes the piano he has stored up there. Why (and how) anyone would put a piano in an attic is beyond my comprehension, but most importantly, why (and how) Crosby wants to put it on his houseboat, is beyond reality. Julia agrees with me on this point. "What are you, the zoning commission?" Crosby asks. Adam wonders when Crosby became so sentimental about this piano he learned to play on. They agree that the piano thing is the least of their worries. "Adam," Julia says. "I will solve Dad's financial problems. I got this. I will." Adam smiles sadly. "I know you will," he says.

Haddie has arrived home from school to find Zeek back in the kitchen drinking "virgin screwdrivers." Or, as my people call it: orange juice. With little preamble, he congratulates her for "resisting, when that boy was trying to get you to have intercourse with him. I'm so proud of you." Haddie's face drains of all color. "Well," she says, nodding and trying not to die. "Thanks, Grandpa." Sometimes Sarah Ramos looks so much like Monica Potter it is crazy. Speaking of MP, Kristina passes Haddie on the stairs, now, and asks her what's wrong. "Just... Grandpa," Haddie says, sighing. Kristina sighs and asks what happened. Haddie shrugs, wanting to let it go, and says it was nothing. "I'm just going to go be alone," she adds, but Kristina isn't having it. "You've been spending way too much time alone," she says. Haddie rolls her eyes and says she's fine, but Kristina insists that she's not, and is struck by an inspired idea. "Haddie, why don't you have a... now, don't gross out at the word... a good, old-fashioned slumber party." Haddie starts to blow it off, but as Kristina gets more excited, talking about inviting girls over and making muddy buddies and hanky pankies, and pulling out the Ouija board, Haddie can't help but smile. "Would you really do that?" she asks, tentatively letting her guard down. Kristina says that yes, she wants to do it for her. "You're so down," she says, and finally Haddie relents. Kristina is thrilled. "I'll get you some michi!" she says. "Mochi," Haddie corrects her, and I don't know what she's talking about, but surely it isn't this, right? I had about, oh, 100 slumber parties in my day, and I am feeling left out that I am not up on the current lingo. Don't tell me teenage girls are making glutinous rice cakes at slumber parties these days. [No, they're buying and eating delicious ice cream treats. - Zach]