“Yes, Dad. She knows you.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t want you arranging my love life.”
I laughed.
“I’m not arranging your love life. I’m introducing two people who might enjoy each other’s company.”
He finally agreed.
The date took place at a quiet restaurant on a Saturday afternoon.
Rachel later told me that my father arrived early, looking slightly nervous but carrying a small bunch of flowers.
She said he apologized for being early and joked that he hadn’t been on a first date in so long that he had forgotten what time people normally arrived.
They talked about their favorite books, their families, their jobs, and the places they hoped to visit someday.
My father told stories about my childhood, including the time I tried to bake a cake by myself and nearly covered the kitchen in flour.
Rachel laughed so hard that she nearly spilled her drink.
