Dinner with My Parents

Taps of raindrops on my office window captivated me. Rain has always been a calming factor for me. It hadn't been a super stressful day but I felt the pressure of a story deadline. After a restless night of worrying about what my mother and Olivia were scheming, I couldn't wait to get to the office. My office is one of the three places that are truly mine. In the house, I have my room and my chair. Every other room in the house is decorated by two wannabe interior protégés, and I had to fight hard to have my chair in the living room, but my office is untouchable.

I walked into my office and was immediately greeted with the Chicago skyline silhouetted against a lovely sunrise. I did get a crimson sheer curtain to accent against the gray walls. On the far right wall sat my cherry wood desk. The wall behind it was lined with matching cubbies and cabinets, filled with photos of my most precious memories. In front of my desk were two nice leather chairs that Di and Olivia picked out, mostly because if they weren't in their own offices they were in mine. Besides the big red shag rug in the center of the room, the only other thing to point out would be the Classic Movie posters that lined my walls. They were gifts from Mark and my father when I took on the position of Senior Editor. I love my office!

I stretched my cramped muscles, yawning so hard I should've inhaled my desk calendar. I rubbed my face easing the tension in my jaw and cheeks. My head laid back and my eyes slid closed taking a small break from my computer. A "How To" article on thrift outfitting is fascinating, but I'd been focusing on it for a little too long.

"McAllister," I heard barked from the door. I slightly jumped at the intrusion but groggily looked towards the voice. Leaning against the office jamb is an older gentleman. He sported nicely chiseled features lightly wrinkled around the eyes and mouth and bronzed from his latest fishing trip. The once jet black widow's peak is now peppered, probably from the years of keeping up with me. His dark green eyes held a stern look that both he and my father have mastered. "What on earth are you still doing here?'

Looking at my watch I saw how late it really wasn't. Barely five in the evening and I was hoping to fritter away at least a couple more hours. "I'm avoiding my home, what's your excuse?"

"What are talking about? This is my home. Why are you avoiding home?" He ran a hand over his salt and pepper buzz cut.

"I'm avoiding my mother and Olivia."

My boss smiled, "Your mother I understand running from, but why Olivia?"

"It's a long story, Uncle Mark." I sighed. "I just know I'm having dinner with them as they explain the groom-fest they've set up for me."

"Groom-fest?"

"A series of blind dates they've set up. They think I am in desperate need of a man."

Mark's smile lingered, "You'll have to report to me in the morning."

"Why?"

"This sounds like it could be an interesting experiment." He began to chuckle. "Well, I am glad you're still here, have you had an opportunity to look over that proposal we got from Woodworth Gaming Company?"

"You mean the single sponsor special edition?" I yawned.

"Yeah, that is the one." He moved from the doorway to one of the chairs in front of me. "What do you think of the proposal?"

"I think it is doable. Dinah's been looking for an opportunity to branch into costume designs. I think this would be a great opportunity for her." I replied. "Are they really saying they will pay for everything? That is an extraordinary amount of money."

"I have talked with Old Man Woodworth and he said that he is fully aware of the burden, but it is worth it to him," Mark smirked. Both he and I knew what this asked of both teams. We are looking at total collaboration and possible censorship of anything that might not be flattering to Woodworth Gaming. I have heard wonderful things about the company and the games that they release, but there is always a little spin that is woven into every tale told.

"According to Damien Woodworth, this was the brainchild of his Vice President and a couple of his staff members. They are the ones that will be partnering with us on the project," Mark informed me.

"He must have a young Vice President," I countered.

"Yep," Mark laughed. "His son is quite the ideas man, so he wants to see if the boy has any follow through."

"Well, that sounds like a familiar tale," I remarked.

"I always knew you had follow-through, Grace." He chuckled as he stood and stretched. "We have a meeting with the young Woodworth and the company attorney on Monday, so you better be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. I need my girl there to sweet-talk these young men into a good deal."

"Oh you better not be getting ideas about setting me up with anyone, I have enough of that at home."

"Speaking of," He winked, "you better run home for dinner."

"You would find pleasure in my pain, you monster," I growled.

"Oh don't be so melodramatic. Now get!" My Editor and Chief sent me into my nightmare. Jerk! "Oh and say hi to your parents for me."

---- ---- ---- ----

I figured since I was the guest of honor, dinner would have to wait for me. I took my time preparing an outfit. I wanted to dive in to the summer line that Classic Fashion's own in-house designer gave me. Honestly, Dinah hated to see leftovers go to waste. Dinah Deerrich, Di to those closest to her, is so talented that I would never complain about accepting model leftovers. These are clothes that not even Olivia touched. Dinah loves dressing me up for any occasion, but with her off in Milan, I was on my own. I am kind of glad my second roommate wasn't around because she would quickly partner with the winning side and I would be hopelessly outnumbered.

Humming resonated from the bathroom down the hall meaning Olivia was preoccupied with her mirror. Hangers slid across the wood bar as I moved a little farther back to find the sundresses. I needed something that would bring me a layer of confidence. It didn't take very long for the perfect one to jump out at me. Charcoal black with gold polka-dots, the dress had an hourglass shape and the length ended just before my ankle. The mirror happily agreed with my choice as I twirled in front of it.

I happened to be in the process of applying eye-shadow when I heard the loud command. "Grace Lorriane McAllister, get your butt in gear we're running late for dinner!" I stressed out at work all day while my wicked mother and EX-best friend have been discussing potential serial killers behind my back.

Never in my life had I been so opposed to visiting my parents, so much so that Olivia nearly had to drag me through their front door. I'm usually over there at least once a week, but I'm not very happy with them at this moment.

"Hey, there's my little girl," my father praised as he pulled me in for a hug. "Just so you know I had nothing to do with this operation," he whispered. I could feel a small smile spread across my face. I should've had more faith in my father, I'm his girl and no one got near his baby girl... unless his wife got to him first.

"Thank you," I mouthed just before mother curled me into a hug next. Thanks to her jumpy demeanor her excitement would be hard to miss.

"Oh Grace, you are going to have a wonderful time tomorrow." She winked at Olivia knowing full well that I could see it. She never did learn the art of subtly, but then again neither did Olivia.

"I take it you chose some good men." No reason to be coy about the subject; I knew why I was there.

"I offered to choose the men myself," My father announced. I saw his teasing grin.

"Yeah, great idea," I added with some excitement.

"No," Olivia said, "we all know what would happen if we let Jerry choose."

"Yeah, no one would get through," my mother laughed.

"That's the point," my father and I replied. The two women giggled like teenage girls trying desperately not to reveal a secret. Dad grabbed my hand and moved me into the living room to watch baseball. We snuggled on the couch as we used to when I was younger and watched the game. Every once in a while I caught bits and pieces of the conversation between my mother and Olivia.

"So he is planning to meet her at the restaurant," Olivia confirmed.

"Yes, which makes me a little nervous. But Hannah was certain that he would be the perfect date. I am willing to give it a try."

"I just care if he is handsome..." After that I tuned out, I didn't want to hear anymore. The sooner I got this over with, the faster I could get back to my pathetic life of spinsterhood; a life where the highlight of my week is being on the couch with my daddy watching baseball.

"So Mark sends his salutations," I whisper as I curled my feet under me.

"Oh?" He chuckled, "How did Emerson know you'd be seeing us?"

"Daddy, he's a journalist. He did what he does best, ask questions-"

"And pry out answers," Dad completed the common Emerson-ism. "What did he have to say?"

"He thinks it's going to be a fun experience and wants me to report to him in the morning." Daddy didn't question it, just chuckled. He and Mark were best friends in college and Mark Emerson's been a permanent figure in my life. He couldn't wait for me to get my degree in journalism and held a job for me, but I've earned every success I've gotten since.

I snuggled into my daddy's side as I came back from memory lane. His arm wrapped around me and he laid his head against mine. "Daddy... do I have to do this?"

"Baby girl, I don't want this any more than you do." But? "But... ever since James broke your heart... I worry about you."

I opened my mouth to comment but closed it again as I thought. James didn't break my heart. He hurt me and even ruined my image of males, but he did not break my heart. I think it was more the fact that he shattered a beautiful illusion that had me moping as I do.

"Dinner is served," mother cried from the dining room.

On the table sat all my favorite foods. If this is how it is going to go the night before all of my dates, I might be more willing to go. My father sat across from me as the traitors took up the last two seats. I did everything but bite my tongue while they informed me of what would happen tomorrow. God, please keep me safe. I knew that later I would be scouring the pantry for a cookie, I would need it.