Chapter 8

He hung up before she had a chance to respond. Now what? Risk bad feeling between herself and the man she professed to love or accept a date with a guy who she found very attractive on a few levels but still didn't fully trust? Frank was Frank, a good guy but one who lacked the desire to move up in the world. She saw Doug as someone who could expose her to things she'd never seen or done. And yes, flattery had a lot to do with it. She felt almost proud that a guy like him wanted to be with a girl from the poorer side of town.

And so, come early Saturday evening, Amber waited anxiously for Doug to pick her up for their dinner-symphony date. She wore a shortish, light-blue semi-formal dress and high heels. If Doug liked her in her work clothes, jeans and tennis shoes, he'd like her in this, the form-fitting dress and shoes that brought out the best in her shapely legs. She decided to keep her hair down instead of putting it up. This was a date, not a prom.

Norb Mullin, Amber's dad, answered the door, curious about this new man in his daughter's life. Amber felt nervous, watching Norb and Doug, dressed in a blue blazer, off-white pants and a long-sleeve blue button-down sans tie, shake hands in the small living room. 'Quite a contrast,' she thought, 'my average height, balding dad in his T-shirt and work pants, and the tall and suave Douglas Gibbens. She also picked up on the cautious, almost suspicious way that Norb looked at her date. He seemed to be asking himself, what in the hell is this rich guy doing down here?

When they were driving away, Doug said, "Your parents looked like they don't fully trust me. I guess, like you, they think it's odd that I'd be interested in you."

"Doug, not to belabor the point—because we talked about this at your club—but I don't fully get it either. Does any of your family know about me?"

"No, not yet." Doug looked straight ahead, navigating his Austin-Healy through the heavy downtown Baltimore traffic. "Why?"

"Just curious. I wonder what their reaction might be."

"They don't care who I date. At twenty-eight, I'm a big boy now. But what about Frank? Does he know you're out with me?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I told him. Can't say he liked it but there was no nasty drama or anything."

"Well, that's good," Doug said. Glancing down at her legs, halfway exposed, he said, "By the way, you took terrific tonight. You're so pretty."

"Thanks. And you look so handsome. As usual."

Minutes later, they arrived in Little Italy, a congested neighborhood in East Baltimore of old row homes where there seemed to be a restaurant on every corner. This place could be packed on weekend nights. Doug had made reservations, so they didn't have to wait too long after stepping into Chiapparelli's, one of the more popular eateries here, and then being seated next to a window. "I've never been here before," Amber said. "We usually go to Sabatino's."

"Been to both," Doug said, "and I'd say it's a tossup. By we, you mean you and Frank?"