This is a follow-up to We Had Our Time (Romance, 7/10/22).
Having high expectations was a sure-fire path to disappointment. Chad Houston knew that and therefore he tried to keep his expectations in check. He had just had a wonderful time in Florida with an amazing girl from suburban Philadelphia, a one Whitney Chaney who was over twenty years his junior but who nevertheless appeared as enamored with him as he was with her. Would this turn out to be just a late summer fling or something deeper and longer? He hoped for the latter, yet was realistic enough to know that what had happened in West Palm and Orlando was likely to stay there.
Upon his return to Maryland, he went about his post-retirement life--exercising, riding his bike, playing his guitar, checking out romantic prospects on Our Time and Match. As he had told Whitney, he hadn't had much luck with those dating sites. Still, it didn't hurt to keep looking. He was retired, he had the time. But he was also an incurable romantic and wanted to resume with Whitney in the "real world" what he had shared with her on vacation. Her 'miss you' texts were a hopeful sign that they'd get together when she returned. He wondered if they could work out the logistics of doing that. She lived with her parents, which meant that she'd need to come to Baltimore for overnights. Not unless he booked a hotel in Philly or her parents were so liberal that they'd allow her middle-aged boyfriend to stay with them. Which also begged the question: How would Mr. and Mrs. Chaney feel about their twenty-two-year-old daughter dating a man in his late forties? Not good, he imagined.
Whitney didn't think her parents would jump for joy either. She didn't tell them Chad's age right away. Just that she had met this "wonderful guy who plays guitar and is in great shape." The truth came out when they asked what he did.
"He's a bicycle mechanic?" Emily Chaney, her mom, asked incredulously.
"Yeah, he's retired from state government," Whitney said. "He once did that part-time, now does it full time."
After Whitney revealed his age, her mom said, "Of all the boys your age and you picked a man old enough to be your dad. I don't get it."
As far as Whitney was concerned, there wasn't much to get. Chad's age had never been an issue with her. He was just this guy who pleased her on several levels, who happened to be in his late forties. And maybe that was a good thing because he had the wisdom to put things in perspective for her. A recent college graduate, she wasn't sure which direction to go in. At one time, she wanted to go into law. Now she wasn't so sure. Perhaps law school but perhaps pharmacy school as one of her friends was doing. But that would require her to take prerequisite courses like chemistry and physics in order to even apply. She didn't take any of the hard sciences in her four years at Penn State. She felt stifled by a lack of direction. But Chad had soothed her angst. 'Don't worry so much, things will work out for you,' he had said.
She couldn't wait to see him again. She missed him, every part of him. His wisdom, his guitar playing, his jacked body and his warm, passionate kisses while he made love to her. She was more than willing to drive to Baltimore and stay at his place. But before she could do that, there was a catch. A big catch. Emily and her dad Miles wanted to meet him first. "I'm not exactly comfortable with a guy of my generation dating my daughter," Miles had said. "And if he had a daughter, I'd bet he'd feel the same way."
She might be an adult but she still lived under her parents' roof. She called Chad to tell him. "Look, I know that having to meet my parents under these circumstances is a bummer," she said. "Nobody likes to be scrutinized, and you shouldn't have to be. But it's the only way I can see you."
She fully expected him to say, forget it. Instead, she heard this: "Whitney, you're worth the scrutiny. So let's make plans."
Chad empathized with Whitney's parents. Therefore, he was willing to be scrutinized--if that was the proper word. Beyond that, he didn't know how things would go. Should he get a hotel room or would this be just a day trip? Would he pass their scrutiny at all? He felt a little like the proverbial Dirty Old Man. It's not the way he felt in Florida because neither Whitney or her friends, Jasmine and Sarah, made him feel that way. Initially, her friends might have poked some good-natured fun at the age disparity between himself and Whitney, but it didn't last long. Ultimately, his age didn't matter. Yet now it did because he had to "present" himself before people around his age in order to get their approval for dating their considerably younger daughter. Just having to do that made him conscious of the age difference. A bemused friend's 'rockin' the cradle' remark didn't help either. Regardless, he was determined to see what might happen between himself and this young girl with whom he had become so smitten.
And so, on the last Saturday of September 2018, he got into his Malibu and drove up to Devon, a suburb fifteen to twenty miles outside of Philadelphia. It looked to be a nice place to raise a family, (he had checked it out online), with a good public-school system and varied housing, from upscale to middle-middle class. The Chaneys lived in a single, late 1940s-era, two-story brick house that sat on close to an acre of land, surrounded by old trees. The Chaneys had added an addition, a den with bay windows. On top, they had built a deck bordered by a white wood railing. A brick walkway began at the front door, then wound its way to the right side of the house and ended in back.
He was nervous when he pulled in front, the same sort of nervousness he felt years ago before meeting a blind date. He was self-conscious about looking "presentable." No jeans this time. Instead, he wore casual slacks and a powder-blue, long-sleeve button-down shirt. He checked himself in the visor mirror, primping his hair. His guitar sat in its case on the backseat. Have guitar will travel. It proved to be a valuable asset in Florida. Perhaps it would be here as well.
He didn't have to wait but a few seconds after ringing the doorbell. Whitney opened the door right away, as if she had been looking through the window, waiting for him to arrive. She greeted him with a huge smile, wearing jeans and a loose-fitting blouse. He also noticed she was barefoot. She hugged him in the doorway and whispered, "I missed you."
"I missed you, too, Whitney. And that's an understatement."
Moments after Chad entered the living room, Miles and Emily Chaney emerged from the kitchen to greet him. Chad's initial impression: this was a good-looking couple who had lived a good, healthy life. Emily's hair was the same shade of brown as Whitney's and styled in a manner befitting a woman who got her ideas from chic fashion magazines. Miles, like Chad, had all his hair, brown with flecks of gray. His face and prominent chin bore a two or three-day growth of stubble--by design it looked to Chad. 'Stubble cool,' he called it. Both looked good in their casual weekend duds, trim and fit. No doubt, these were people who took care of themselves.
Emily offered Chad a drink. "We also have wine if you'd like."
"No thanks, I'm good," Chad said, even though he wasn't so good. He could have used a little alcohol, and perhaps Emily sensed it also. What he wanted most was to get this thing over with as soon as possible.
Because it was such a nice day, Miles suggested that they talk outside on the deck. Chad thought he had the right idea because being outside, amid the sounds of chirping birds and the warmth of hazy, early autumn sunshine, made him feel more relaxed, as opposed to the potentially stuffy atmosphere of being indoors.
Emily, in tight white slacks and wearing black flats, crossed her slim legs. There was no talking about the nice weather beforehand; she got right down to business. "So, Whitney already told me some things about you. You're divorced and retired from government service. You play the guitar and exercise a lot."
Chad nodded and raised his right arm. "Guilty as charged," he said, a comment designed to get a chuckle. But no one did.
Miles, who'd been eyeing Chad warily, said, "Chad, we normally don't, well, interview Whitney's potential boyfriends. It's only because you're a generation older that we're doing this."
"I understand," Chad said. "If I had a daughter, I'd feel the same way."
Miles brushed aside Chad's empathy. "Do you always go after young girls like Whitney?"
