Our story thus far: Charles Crafton has been dating Alina Stanton for quite a few months, but his mother wants him to meet a friend's daughter.
Charles, in his normal absentminded way, had forgotten he'd promised to have dinner with his mother to meet her friend's daughter. He was somewhat disappointed that it caused him to break a date with Alina; they were planning on seeing the latest spy thriller at the movie theater.
He was also not looking forward to meeting this Marissa Fairbanks person; he vaguely remembered her mother, Christine, and only that he didn't like her much.
Despite all that, he dressed carefully -- a dark pair of slacks and a light blue shirt that Alina had given him, saying it enhanced his eyes. He surveyed himself in the mirror, glad he was still thin and young-looking, and finally headed out.
He had promised to meet them at L'Creme, a new, popular restaurant on the north side of town. He had to wait several minutes for a valet, and he amused himself while he waited by punching all the buttons on his radio. He thought his car was finally and completely repaired from the accident he'd had with Alina several months before, and while he couldn't help but feel bad about all the trouble it had caused, he was also glad for the accident -- otherwise he and Alina would never have met. The valet finally came, he composed himself, and went into the restaurant.
His mother and her guests were already seated, so he wound his way through the crowded, noisy tables toward them. Marissa had her back to him, and his mother had not noticed, so he walked up slowly, studying Marissa's blond hair and wishing he was eating popcorn in a crowded theater with Alina.
He greeted his mother first, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
"Hello, Mother," he said in his most pleasant voice. He turned toward the women, and politely introduced himself. "I'm Charles Crafton, and you must be Christine and Marissa."
They smiled demurely, he seated himself, and a waiter whisked over to bring him a glass of wine.
Much later in the evening, as they were lingering over a fabulous chocolate mousse, Charles suddenly realized that he had actually enjoyed himself. He had laughed heartily as Marissa and her mother recounted the one and only time they went camping.
He had listened carefully while Marissa spoke of her work with physically disabled children.
And he had surprised himself by thinking that Marissa, with her flaxen hair and delicate face, was really quite pretty, and that he wouldn't mind getting to know her better.
Despite all that, he was caught off guard when Christine smiled, clasped her hands together and said, "I have a surprise for you two! Tickets to the Symphony!"
"Oh, mother!" Marissa cried. "You knew I'd been wanting to go!"
Charles nodded vaguely; he had heard some talk that someone terribly exciting was going to be a guest, but he hadn't much paid attention to the talk.
"Sounds lovely," he murmured, and his mother smiled broadly at him from across the table.
