I'll go for coffee and dessert with you but this is a special family event. We always have a family dinner before the concert.
He wouldn't take no for an answer.
Can you hold off eating and join me at The Russian Tea Room? I feel like some Pelmeni and blini. Have you been and tried their blini? To die for. I would love company.
I sighed and dialed my father's number.
"Hi, Dad," I said, resigned to this. "Drake Morgan asked if I could go for dinner with him after the concert on Monday."
"That's great," he said, sounding so enthusiastic. "No problem."
"We usually have a special family dinner before…"
"I know you'd rather be with Drake, so go right ahead, dear. You know, you're old enough to date now," he said, laughing. "Why don't you invite him to come sit with us? I know you'd enjoy having some company."
Crap. No help from him, of course.
"I don't think so, Dad. He's probably busy with his band."
I texted Drake back.
My father is very rigid about these things but I told him you invited me to go for a meal after the concert and he said I could miss our usual family dinner. Boy, does he like you… If he only knew…
He texted right back.
He doesn’t know and I want things to stay that way. I don't want
him finding out about my… pastimes. Just keep that in mind when you worry that I'll push your boundaries. I won't.
I responded immediately.
I'll hold you to that. Good afternoon.
Of course, his response was almost getting predictable.
I'll meet you in the lobby during intermission. Until then, Ms. Bennet…
I couldn’t help but smile at that, despite hating him just a bit for it. I could almost see the twinkle in his oh-so-blue eyes…
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Monday night, my father and Elaine and I arrived at Carnegie Hall for the concert. As we took our places in my father's box, I settled in next to the overhang looking out at the seats below and checked over the program. Ms. Upshaw was singing a selection of music, but it was the first part of the evening that I looked forward to the most. Symphony No. 3 – the second movement from Symphony of Sorrowful Songs, written about the Second World War, the lyrics comprised of a young woman's prayer written on a wall in a Gestapo Prison in Poland.
Every year, my mother and I would attend a live performance of this symphony somewhere in the country and neither of us could keep a dry eye throughout. We held hands and comforted each other while we sniveled away, tissues at our eyes. My great-grandparents on my mother's side were from Poland and lost several relatives in the war. This was the third year since she died and the first time I attended a performance of the work. I made sure to bring extra tissues in my bag. I got choked up even thinking of it and was glad we were in our box so no one would see me.
Then, Drake appeared at the door to our box and I turned to my father, who made a great show of standing up to shake his hand.
"There you are, my boy. So glad you could make it. Come and join us!"
My father turned to me and smiled, his eyebrows raised as if he'd just given me a present.
Crap…
I stared up at Drake, frowning. "Drake…"
My father stood and moved over so that Drake could sit next to me. Drake smiled and took my hand, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
"I ran into your father at the health club and when he asked me if I was joining you, I told him I was able to rearrange my jam session with my band to another night and was pleased to keep you company."