Chapter 7

They both laughed before climbing back in front. Then they cleared the windshield to watch what remained of that silly romantic comedy.

*****

That date with Doug faded from Amber's thoughts until he called her the following week to ask her out for Saturday. "Ever been to the symphony?" he asked.

"Once. On a special school outing," she said.

"Wanna go? We'll first have dinner in Little Italy. I'm sure you've been there."

"I have, Doug, but Saturday...Well, I'm not sure." She was sure she wanted to go. But then what would she tell Frank?

He picked up her vibe right away. "I know, you're busy with your boyfriend."

She paused to think. Then: "Honestly, yes. We're always together on Saturday night."

"Can you make an exception for this coming Saturday? The BSO is performing an all-Beethoven program. You'll love it."

She did enjoy what little classical music she'd been exposed to, including a Beethoven symphony, though she couldn't name which one. "Not to put you off, but can I get back to you? It's not that I don't want to go, I do, it's what you said, and I don't want to do anything behind his back. Meanwhile, if there's anyone else you'd like to take, don't wait for me."

"Amber, there are a few people I could take but I'd prefer to take you. Can you get back to me in a couple days?"

"Of course. And thanks for asking me. I'm flattered."

Her suspicions aside, she really was flattered that a guy like Doug would put her at the top of his list for a Saturday date night. What WOULD she tell Frank?"

She gave it a day's thought, then called him. She told him that Saturday night was always "reserved" for him. But would he mind if she made an "exception" for this Saturday because one of her "cleaning customers" wanted to take her to the symphony. She left out the dinner part, in addition to her luncheon at Bucolic Hills.

He paused before responding. "Are you seein' another guy?"

"No Frank, it's not like that. This guy's into classical music—and I kind of like it too—so he just asked me. Nothing more to it than that."

"I didn't know you liked long-hair stuff like that."

"Look, I'd rather listen to Green Day or the Rolling Stones but Beethoven's pretty cool, too. You should give it a listen."

"No thanks. But next time you want to go to the symphony, ask me. No need to go with one of your customers because I'll take you." After a long pause, he said, "Amber, I don't think you're tellin' me the whole story. What you're sayin' don't fully add up."

He was right, it didn't. But what was she supposed to say? 'You're right, Frank. His name is Douglas, he's very good-looking, makes big bucks and belongs to an exclusive country club.' She'd used brutal honesty before on certain people, but Frank wasn't going to be one of them. "Frank, you'll just have to trust me. He's taking me to the symphony, not to bed." She winced, regretting that line, stupid and provocative. "Sorry, Frank, I didn't mean to get testy." Silence. "Frank? Frank?"

"Amber, like I said, I don't think you're bein' totally honest with me. But you go ahead, enjoy yourself."