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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, a firm chin,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a fringe of white hair, and Tracy loved him instantly. He was the perfect grandfather for their child.
Charles's mother was impressive looking. She was rather short and heavy-set,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but despite that,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], there was a regal air about her. She looks solid and dependable,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Tracy thought. She'll make a wonderful grandmother.
Mrs. Stanhope held out her hand. "My dear, so good of you to join us. We've asked Charles to give us a few minutes alone with you. You don't mind?"
"Of course she doesn't mind," Charles's father declared. "Sit down... Tracy,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], isn't it?"
"Yes,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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.