<p><em>My father looks around the room and raises his glass of champagne high. ''Friends and family, I''m so glad you''re all here today. Because there''s something I''ve been wanting to share with you.'' </em></p><p><em>The way my stepmother''s looking at him I can tell right away Dad''s gone off-script. He looks out over us all and rubs his hand across his sweat-beaded forehead. He''s shaking, I notice. And then he looks my way and his glance is absolutely piercing. That''s what I''m thinking in the moment that his knees suddenly buckle and the glass drops from his hand. It smashes like a grenade, an explosion of deafening silence. </em></p><p><em>My father is lying face-forward in the grass. </em></p><p><em>''Somebody call an ambulance,'' a voice shrieks. And the world as I know it ends. </em></p><p><br></p><p><strong>Dinah Spencer</strong> is back in her childhood home for one stressful weekend. It''s the twenty-five-year anniversary of her father''s marriage to