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was safely inside her house. A couple times he’d driven down her street without her knowing it and had been surprised at how meticulous the yard and flowerbeds were. As far as he could see, there was nothing to be ashamed of. He worried about Angie and wondered if her father was abusive or an alcoholic. She had given him no clues, but he couldn’t press the subject, since he hadn’t taken her to meet his parents, either.
    A week before the dance, Simon had made his decision. “We’re going,” he announced that night. They were parked at Three Tree Point, sitting in the convertible with the top down. Angie sat close by his side, her head resting on his chest. Simon’s arm was looped around her shoulder, and he pressed her close.
    Angie hadn’t made the pretense of not knowing what he was talking about. “There’ll be trouble.”
    “We’ll face it together.” Slowly, reassuringly, his hand stroked the length of her arm. “And this time I won’t pick you up at the library or anyplace else. I’m coming to your front door with the biggest corsage this town has ever seen.”
    “Oh Simon,” she had whispered, uncertainty in her voice, “I don’t know.”
    “And with you on my arm, I’m going to introduce you proudly to my parents.”
    Simon felt the tension building in her. “You’re sure?”
    “I’ve never been more positive of anything in my life.”
    The evening had been a disaster from beginning to end. As he said he would, Simon picked Angie up at her house. He had barely knocked when the door was opened. Simon wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t the tall, gray-haired man who stood before him. Simon introduced himself and shook hands with Angie’s father, Clay Robinson. Clay was dressed in a suit, his hair slicked down. From listening around school, Simon knew that Angie’s father worked at the mill. On weekends he played banjo at a local tavern.
    “You’ve come to take my Angie to the prom?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “You’re that rich kid from on the hill, ain’t you?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I don’t suppose you and your daddy like good bluegrass?”
    “Daddy, please,” Angie pleaded, her face red with embarrassment.
    “We enjoy music.” All Simon wanted to do was get Angie out of that house.
    “Me and my band play good; you say something to your daddy, you hear, boy?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Angie didn’t say a word until Simon had parked the car in the parking lot. The music drifted from the open door of the school gymnasium. “I’m sorry, Simon,” she mumbled, her chin tucked against her collarbone.
    “What for?”
    “Dad. He shouldn’t have asked you to do that.”
    “Angie, it doesn’t matter. Okay?” A finger under her chin lifted her eyes to his. They were so dark and intense that he leaned forward and kissed her. “Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” She was, incredibly so. Her hair was piled high upon her head, and small flowers were woven into the design. The dress was new, a light blue thing with an illusion yoke of sheer lace. Angie had designed it herself, and he was astonished at her skill.
    For the first time that evening, she smiled. “No.”
    “Then let me correct the oversight.” He chuckled. “You are incredibly beautiful tonight, Angie.” He said it with all the emotion he was experiencing and gazed deep into her fathomless eyes.
    Her smile revealed the happiness his words produced. “Thank you, Simon.”
    They should have been able to enjoy the dance, but they didn’t. Instead they both were anticipating the confrontation that awaited them at the country club. Simon’s mother hadn’t surprised him.
    “Mom,” he said, tucking his arm around Angie’s waist. “This is Angela Robinson.”
    “Hello, Angela.” Politely Mrs. Canfield shook Angie’s hand, but her eyes had turned questioningly to her son. His mother was far too refined to say anything at the moment, but Simon knew he’d hear about his choice of a date later.
    Simon