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Charles Stanhope,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Sr., was a stern-looking man in his middle sixties. He looked like a successful man; he was the projection of what his son would be like in thirty years. He had brown eyes, like Charles's,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a firm chin, a fringe of white hair, and Tracy loved him instantly. He was the perfect grandfather for their child.
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"Of course she doesn't mind,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],Holder reassures Muslims of DOJ's anti-bias focus," Charles's father declared. "Sit down... Tracy, isn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
The two of them seated themselves on a couch facing her. Why do I feel as though I'm about to undergo an inquisition? Tracy could hear her mother's voice: Baby, God will never throw anything at you that you can't handle. Just take it one step at a time.
Tracy's first step was a weak smile that came out all wrong, because at that instant she could feel the run in her hose slither up to her knee. She tried to conceal it with her hands.
"So!" Mr. Stanhope's voice was hearty. "You and Charles want to get married."
The word want disturbed Tracy. Surely Charles had told them they were going to be married.