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Charles Stanhope, 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],[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.
Charles's mother was impressive looking. She was rather short and heavy-set, but despite that,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], there was a regal air about her. She looks solid and dependable, Tracy thought. She'll make a wonderful grandmother.
Mrs. Stanhope held out her hand. "My dear,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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, 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], 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,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]!" 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.