A week before the wedding, hubbie-to-be of Sarah Jolston is elected by his new in-laws to fill the family photographer shoes of recently deceased Uncle Francis. Was it a formal election? No. Was there discussion? No.

Sarah insists her fiance, Philip, be included at the disbursement of Uncle Francis' effects. The family gathers in the old bachelor's apartment in downtown Indianapolis.

Florence, the matriarch, says, "Does anybody know how to work this thing?"

She holds up a fat, scuffed Nikon F.

Sarah blurts out proudly, "Philip does. He knows everything about cameras."

"Film cameras," Philip corrects her, "I don't know anything about the new digital ones."

"So then, it's yours," Florence decides and plops it in his lap, along with a bag containing three lenses.

Oldest brother, Harry, says, " Amazing coincidence, hunh?"

"What?" Sarah asks

"That two weeks after Uncle Francis kicks off, Sare marries a guy who takes pictures."

Philip thinks, but doesn't say, "I actually have a name, you know."

Middle brother Edward counters with, "Not really a coincidence. Statistically deaths and births often occur quite close together in families. This would simply be a variant."

Edward researches business statistics. He routinely trots out his numerical know-how to refute anything said by Harry. Especially when tipsy, as he is now, having already laid claim to Uncle Francis' single-malt Scotch cabinet.

Youngest brother, James, leafing through one of Francis' photo albums, says, "Phil, I hope you can liven things up a bit. Look here - same shot, same shot, same shot – basically, it got to the point where Francis' was taking the exact same pictures over and over every holiday. Here's everybody in front of the eggnog bowl in exactly the same pose in '95, '96, '97."

"Yeah, too bad there's no shot of Francis peeing in the fireplace last Christmas."

Walter, the patriarch, never speaks, or maybe once a quarter. Instead, his rheumy eyes dilate a silent language that Florence interprets aloud.

"Let us not speak ill of the deceased," Florence admonishes.

*

Philip is initially grateful for his shutterbug role. The Jolstons - of Jolston Diecast - are imposing figures locally. Philip, a bit of an introvert, harbors not-so-secret trepidations as to how he'll fit with this crowd. He doesn't golf, throw horseshoes (manufactured by Jolston Diecast), or drink single-malt Scotch. Sarah exacerbates these trepidations when she suggests, a day before the wedding, that perhaps he would like to learn to play golf on their honeymoon in Hawaii.

"Why would I want to spend our honeymoon humiliating myself with a game that has always struck me as boring beyond words?" Philip asks, testily.

"I just thought it might be something we could enjoy playing together when we're old and frail," Sarah explains.

"Well, I am glad you still see us together at that point," says Philip. He comes from three generations of 'broken' families.

"You're rolling the dice with me, Sare. You know that?"

This is his first spoken use her brothers' nickname for 'Sarah'. It sounds okay, rolls off the tongue okay, makes him feel more like a genuine brother-in-law.

"Don't call me 'Sare'."

"Okay, sorry."

"I mean, I want you to fit in, but not just become one of them," Sarah explains.

Philip nods and cautiously voices a new theory. "I'm getting the impression that your family assumed you'd never marry."

"Yeah, I told you that before. I was supposed to become the old spinster who would take care of them forever."

"Right. You did tell me, but I didn't believe it."

*

On their return from Hawaii, Philip's photographer position is cemented with a slide show. The slide show is a new experience for the Jolston clan. Nobody shoots slide film anymore, except architects. A son and grandson of architects, and himself an architectural preservation consultant, Philip is pleasantly surprised to discover that, despite all his divorced kid hang-ups, he is the bearer of a very positive tradition, all but lost now - the family slideshow. And the Jolstons love it!

Moving sofas together, eating popcorn, drinking beer, shouting out comments to the larger-than-life images on the wall of the family manse great room.

"Look at those flowers!"

"Now I know why they call it a hairpin turn - "

"Good choice on renting a convertible."

"I guess you don't spot too many out-of-state license plates."

"Is that a volcano?"

"Sare, I've never seen you looking so bright-eyed at a breakfast table before."

"Omagosh, how did you get up close to that whale?"

"It's called a telephoto lens."

"Use it on the beach bunny!"

"That's not a beach bunny, that's your sister, idiot."

"It is?"

"My daughter has a tattoo?"

"Three actually," Philip says.

Sarah punches him.

"She would never let Uncle Francis take any pictures of her alone," Florence comments.

"I didn't like myself in his pictures," Sarah confesses.

"You seem to be liking yourself in these - " Edward remarks.

An uncharacteristic silence during a series of close-ups of Sarah brushing her hair on the hotel balcony at dawn.

"Whoa - you're beautiful!" her oldest brother blurts out.

"You say that as if you've never noticed."

"You say that as if it's against the rules," Philip comments.

Sarah punches him again.

"I guess the rules are changing," Edward reflects.

*

Another unspoken rule ready to change is the one about only convening en masse at the Jolston parents' house. The siblings never get together individually. According to Philip, this is how the family maintains a veneer of solidarity without having to really connect.

"What about work?" Sarah says, "We see each other at the office everyday."

"My point exactly," Philip says.

So Sarah starts scheduling individual dinners, ostensibly for her siblings to get to know Philip. And also, she realizes, for her siblings to get to know her. Not only did Philip inherit Uncle Francis' camera gear, but at the last minute, he and Sarah decided to accept the estate lawyer's offer of Francis' tiny downtown apartment, after nobody else wanted it. Which is barely big enough to host a card game. Which means, in effect, Sarah is inviting herself and Philip over to her siblings' houses for dinner.

"Should I bring the camera?" Philip asks.

"You sort of feel naked without it, don't you?" Sarah says.

"But will it bother them?"

"Hard to be discreet with that monster."

"I can use a wide angle and just shoot off the hip."

Twenty rolls of film later - straightforward documentary shots of interiors, exteriors, Jolston brothers, Harry's wife, Edward's new girlfriend, throwing horseshoes, lighting the gas grill, gardening, stirring mint julips - the family calls for another slideshow.

Edward's girlfriend, Jackie, missed the first one. At their dinner with Philip and Sarah, middle brother Edward talks so much about the 'honeymoon' slideshow that Jackie forces him to convene another.

"Do you think she's just angling for a ring?" Philip asks Sarah on the drive home from the dinner.

"What do you mean?"

"Because Eddy kept calling it the 'honeymoon slideshow'."

"No, I think everybody has been wanting to do it again."

"But this won't be exotic travel photos. This will just be boring snapshots of your family and their houses."

"It's your family too now, Philip."

"Okay, sorry."

And, in fact, the next slideshow is considered very exotic. Like a National Geographic special on their own backyards, foreign turf that nobody has seen in years.

"Marvelous blue planters, Harry!"

"Fifty bucks at Lowe's."

"You should try nasturiums instead of the coreopsis."

"So that's where the Endeavor ship model ended up - in James' living room, the little thief!"

"Goodness, who hangs out laundry on a line anymore!?"

"I like the feel of sun-dried clothes," Harry says.

"He won't even let me iron them after."

"Silly man."

"All this time we thought your rumple-wear was just laziness."

"Hanging laundry outdoors is forbidden by our neighborhood association."

Interspersed with the house and grounds photos are candid portraits, shot from low angles without using the viewfinder, some quite close-up, that feature the Jolston brothers in non-composed, everyday mug-shots. And at first - as with Sarah's Hawaiian hairbrushing sequence - the initial reaction to their faces is an awkward silence, as if the subjects had been captured in a compromising position. Then someone turns off the only lamp in the room, making the giant visages even more present, and allowing the audience to openly stare at them through the dark. And slowly the Jolstons begin to speak to each other about what they see in each other's faces.

"Eddy, are those crows-feet, old boy?"

"I've never noticed how much James's profile ressembles Uncle Francis."

"Oh, there's that scrunch thing Harry does when he's thinking."

"What scrunch thing?"

"With your mouth and eyebrow."

"Uh, nosehair alert, bro."

"I know what's going in his Christmas stocking."

"Harry, dear, I'm worried about you. You're looking very tired," Florence observes.

One of Walter's drooping eyelids rises ever so slightly and Florence translates, "Your father thinks perhaps you should take a little time off - it's been, what, a decade since your last vacation?"

Which brings on a brief rustling around in their seats, as this is the most direct expression of parental concern that any of the siblings have ever heard out of Florence and Walter.

The last slide in the carousel tray clicks through, leaving a large rectangle of pure white glowing on the wall. Nobody turns on the lamp. The family seems to be enjoying a collective moment, so Philip leaves the projector running. Somebody sticks out a hand into the stream of light and starts making shadow ducks on the wall. Then a few more hands are making shadow puppets on the wall. Jackie jumps up and twirls into a shadow-dance tai-chi demonstration against the glowing white wall. Very beautiful, but a mistake, Philip concludes. Florence immediately turns on the lamp. The collective moment ends. Philip thinks he knows the family well enough to gauge that Jackie just crossed a line.

*

Apparently not. A month later Jackie is still very much in the picture. She and Edward invite Sarah and Philip to an Indianapolis Indians baseball game. Jolston Diecast maintains a stadium skybox that is used for wooing clients and rewarding employees-of-the-month. Edward decides, at Jackie's suggestion, what the hell, in the spirit of the sibs exploring new ground with each other, why not take Sare and Phil to a game? Actually, they are exploring old ground. The Jolston Diecast skybox was originally a pet project of their grandfather, who enjoyed taking his small grandchildren to games. He indoctrinated them with batting and pitching statistics (which later took hold with Edward). But after grandfather's death, daddy Walter, never a sports fan, used the skybox only for business purposes.

"Do you remember when Grandpa fed James so much cotton candy that he threw up over the railing?"

"I don't."

"How could you forget that?" Jackie says.

"What about the time Harry tried to catch the foul ball with grandpa's briefcase?"

"No."

"It spilled out all over your lap."

"I don't remember much at all from when we were little."

"It must have been weird being the only girl with three brothers," Jackie says.

Perhaps she is trying to express some female solidarity, Philip thinks. But he finds her directness and her spiky hair irritating nonetheless. Especially when she says,

"Lack of childhood memories can sometimes indicate a trauma."

"Oh, I doubt that!" Philip states, a bold claim for him to asert so confidently about his in-laws. Feeling that in the past few months he has judiciously achieved an insider status with the Jolstons, he perceives Jackie as injudiciously trying to weasle her way in with provocative comments to make Eddy think she sees things he can't.

Sarah and Phil are still chronic hand-holders. It's their version of Florence and Walter's 'eye' language. They communicate through hand squeezes; in this case, Sarah's hand squeeze means she knows exactly what Phil is thinking and give it a rest, for chrissakes.

Eddy surprises everyone with a very thoughtful reply. "I don't think there was any kind of abuse, if that's what you mean, Jackie. The numbers on that are way overblown. But, yes, how stupid am I not to realize, Sare, it must have been difficult being the only sister, especially because Mother was not exactly very motherly."

"Yeah," Sarah nods, feeling a ripple of unexpected relief from her brother's simple acknowledgment.

"Oh, look! The Kiss-Cam!" Jackie shouts, "It's pointing at us!"

In a curious variant on the recent slideshow, the foursome see their faces projected on the enormous scoreboard screen across the field. They hear the crowd shouting for them to kiss. The shouts turn to applause as the giant faces on the scoreboard turn and touch lips. Eddy and Jackie mushing it up. Sarah and Phil politely smooching. It's fun and funny, but Phil also feels a slight edge of resentment at this obvious moment of triumph for Jackie.

*

And then he feels guilty for feeling that. Sarah reminds him that becoming an insider shouldn't mean viewing all subsequent newcomers in exclusionary terms.

At the Jolston daylong Thanksgiving feast, Philip tries to make up for it with Jackie. Fueled by his first indulgence in a pre-noon Bloody Mary, he chats with Jackie in the sunroom, while the others are watching football. His tall Bloody Mary glass clinks against the fat camera hanging from his neck. He discovers Jackie has an interest in Frank Lloyd Wright. They compare notes on the houses they've visited, each agreeing their favorite is Cedar Rock, a so-called 'minor' summer residence in Iowa.

"I keep telling Eddy they ought to do that grid skylight thing in the den here," Jackie says.

"Adding soffets wouldn't hurt either," Philip nods.

"Who do you think will get this place when the folks croak?" Jackie whispers.

"What?"

"Don't tell me you and Sarah never think about that."

"Um, I can't say we really have."

"Eddy thinks they'll leave it to whoever has the most kids, so you and Sare better get started."

"Nudge, nudge, wink, wink."

"More like - boink, boink," Jackie giggles, already into her second drink.

Philip clears his throat and says evenly, good-naturedly, "Jackie, you know, when I first met Sarah's family, I thought they were scary and uptight and really needed loosening up, and yeah, that was partly true, but the longer I know them, the rigidity starts to look a little more human, a little more like plain awkwardness."

Jackie nods and gulps at her drink. "I hear you, Phil, baby. And I think everybody recognizes you're a shot in the arm for this crowd. I mean, look - look over there - "

She points down the hallway into the TV den where eldest Harry, almost as chronically stoic as his father, sprawls on the couch, draping his arm around his wife's back, playing with her hair.

"But I think they still got a long way to go on the loosening up part," Jackie says.

Phil, of course, is flattered. He also feels uneasy about where this conversation is headed. As an exit strategy, he exaggerates his photographer's interest in the scene down the hall.

"Thanks. I'll tiptoe over and see if I can get a picture."

*

Thanksgiving dinner is served at three in the afternoon, by which time everyone is well-oiled and ready to chow. Florence intones the prayer. Platters and steaming bowls circle round the table, and around again. Wine is poured. For twenty minutes the family joins in an intimate mutual gustatory feedbag celebration - punctuated with sporadic talk about the delicious chestnuts, the delicious mashed potatoes, the delicious oyster stuffing.

Somebody raises a glass to initiate a toast. Like a 'wave' slowly making its way around the bleachers at a baseball game, successive arms and glasses rise around the table. With Harry's wife being the last to look up from her plate and notice. She grabs for her water glass, oops, spills it. Drunkenly embarassed and contrite, sudden tears spill too. Harry, laughing politely, leans over and embraces her.

"Kiss Cam! Kiss Cam!" Jackie shouts.

Philip, as part of his amends to Jackie, has made the mistake of sitting next to her. She reaches for his everpresent camera and literally shoves it up to his face.

"Kiss Cam! Kiss Cam!" she shouts again, capitalizing on the timing of the uncompleted toast.

"Hear! Hear!" Edward says.

Harry smiles and cooperatively applies a peck on his wife's cheek. Philip, a bit tipsy, goes along with the gag.

"Kiss Cam! Kiss Cam!" Jackie intones. She twists Philip's shoulder, as if turning a tripod, so the camera points toward herself and Eddy. They lock lips. Phil snaps a close-up.

"Do one of yourselves!" Eddy orders.

Phil holds the camera out. He and Sarah manage a glancing bonk, while Phil trips the shutter on a picture of their foreheads.

"Kiss Cam!" Jackie chants, and now swivels Phil around to Florence and Walter.

Philip, peering through his viewfinder, sees Florence and Walter, very confused, quizzically turning to each other. They probably haven't kissed in twenty years, Philip thinks. But behind him everyone repeats the insistent chant. He consciously ignores a niggling feeling that this time he is the one crossing a line.

Through the viewfinder he sees Florence shift away from Walter. He sees her red lipstick lips moving, sounding an order that he dimly hears, as if from a great distance - "Put that camera down, young man! Our food is getting cold!"

*

Back at their apartment, Sarah catches Philip on the verge of destroying all his film from the day. She convinces him that would be an overreaction. He can't erase what happened with Florence. And it's not such a big deal anyway. Having the Kiss Cam shots in the archives will be meaningful to the siblings. Remember what James said about wanting holiday shots different from Uncle Francis'?

Philip shrugs. He tries a few deep breathing exercises. In the morning he reluctantly trudges down to the neighborhood photo lab to drop off his five rolls. A gray-haired woman in a trenchcoat enters thru the parking lot door just before him. Philip and the main desk clerk exchange familiar, ‘howzitgoin’ nods. The clerk turns to take care of the lady customer first. From inside her trenchcoat she pulls an 8x10 framed studio portrait of a large family group in formal clothes. She points to a bearded guy, second from the left in the back row.

"I want him taken out," she says.

The clerk scribbles a note on an order slip.

Philip's stomach churns with irrefutable fear. He's witnessing his own fate in the near future. Erased, deleted. He is also queasily irritated by how easily the clerk accepts the order.

"Wait," Philip squeaks, "You can't do that. You can't just void him from your family."

The lady exhales a long sigh. The clerk doesn't even look up. The clerk explains, "It's easy. And not that expensive anymore. I get these orders every day."

Philip fingers the five canisters in his jacket pocket. Desperate to avoid his own air-brushed demise, the magical-thinking corner of Philip's brain again decides his only hope is the destruction of the Thanksgiving Day film. He exits the lab. The canal is two blocks away. If anybody asks about the Kiss Cam pictures, he can say the lab lost the film.

*

For the next four weeks until Christmas, Philip walks on eggshells. Whoever came up with that phrase to describe 'treading lightly' never actually walked on them. Eggshells have sharp edges. It hurts and it doesn't help. As fearful as he is about his longheld child-of-divorce fate coming true, he can't seem to avoid fighting with Sarah. They fight about differing opinions on Nigeria's occupation of Cameroun's oilfields. Ridiculous, because they never discuss politics. They fight about Philip's idea for inviting Florence and Walter on a Caribbean cruise this winter. Sarah is resentful of how much Philip worries about his mother-in-law in contrast to how little concern he seems to display for his own wife. They try to determine what they are really fighting about and end up angrily rehashing an incident from their first date, when Philip forgot to tip a waitress.

"Okay, I'm just a frigging lunatic," Philip moans.

"No, but it sure is crazy-making when you start your woe-is-me routine."

"This apartment is too small. We never should have moved in here."

"How about we go spend this Christmas with your dad in Florida?"

"No, no, absolutely not."

"Why, because he was married three times, you think he's a jinx, that we can't even be in the same room together. Do you really have so little faith in us?"

"His first marriage only lasted eight months," Philip states emphatically.

"Oh, right, and here we are coming up on eight months," Sarah spouts.

Pause, while they both realize - aha - that's it!

Phil contritely promises to chill. He suggests a radical idea - attending the Jolston family Christmas without a camera hanging on his neck. Sarah suggests calling Jackie for a recommendation on a yoga teacher. And for a week or so things improve. Although secretly, Phil continues to suffer a constant, low-grade nausea.

The Christmas routine, like Thanksgiving, involves a daylong succession of ceremonies. Starting promptly at 10:30 a.m. with the Opening of the Stockings. Everyone gets a stocking. They contain traditional items, such as fruit, nuts, chocolate, toiletries, and small, but often expensive, presents that are called the 'warm-ups' – meaning, gifts from Florence and Walter preliminary to the big gift-giving event after lunch.

James gets an engraved money clip. Harry gets a remote starter for his car. Edward receives the newest Blackberry. Sarah finds a lovely watch. Philip gets a set of Mont Blanc pens.

And when Jackie digs down to the bottom of her stocking, she pulls forth a brand new digital Canon EOX camera.

Philip suddenly feels all eyes on him.

"Oh, thank you, a digital - what fun!" Jackie cries, "Phil didn't bring his camera today."

Jackie gushes on, totally thrilled. She interprets this gift from Florence as a sign of her approval.

Philip interprets it as his death knell. His stomach condition plummets from nausea to imminent retching. He lurches across the room and fumbles with the lock on a French window that opens onto a narrow balcony. He barely reaching the railing in time to vomit into the garden below.

The family can't help but notice. Except for Jackie, who continues gushing over her new toy. Sarah, exasperated by her husband's relapse, turns to her brothers with a 'what-the-hell' shrug. And, amazingly, her brothers come to the rescue. James steps over behind Sarah and massages her neck. While Harry, sitting nearest the French window, rises and follows Philip outside.

Philip feels a hand on his back. He is surprised to discover it belongs to his brother-in-law.

"Hey - " Philip groans.

"Hey, old boy, you okay?"

"No."

"Don't worry, it's not what you think."

"It's not?"

Harry says, "It's a digital."

"So?"

"Can't shoot slide film on a digital."

"So?"

Harry discreetly gestures inside. Jackie experiments with extending her zoom fully towards the scene on the balcony railing.

Harry whispers, "Probably mother's way of giving Jackie enough rope to hang herself."

Philip straightens and pivots. Harry clasps an arm around his shoulder. In the picture emailed around later it looks like they're sharing a good joke.