Page 8 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

The dress goes sailing onto the pile. Nothing fits right, nothing looks right, and my hair's already starting to frizz in this humidity.

"Eight million dollars!" Dad's voice cracks. "You don't wave that kind of money unless you're up to something."

"Or unless you're actually a billionaire," Mom shoots back. "Which he is."

I sink onto the edge of my bed, pushing aside a stuffed penguin I've had since grade school. The truth is, I don't know what Charles Varakian wants. The restaurant? Me? Both?

"Our daughter is being taken out to a fancy restaurant," Mom says firmly, "and I hope she has a really nice time, and you should too."

A knock at my door makes me jump. "Aileen?" Mom peeks in. "I thought you might want to borrow my gold dress. The one with the-"

"I heard you guys fighting."

"Your father means well. He's just protective." She smooths down my hair. "Now, about that dress..."

"What if Dad's right?" My fingers trace the soft fabric of Mom's gold dress. "What if Charles just wants the restaurant?"

Mom settles next to me on the bed, displacing a few rejected dresses. "Honey, any man would be lucky to have you. You're smart, beautiful, and you can cook better than anyone I know."

"Except you."

"Including me. That carbonara you made last week? Divine." She pats my hand. "Besides, if he is just after the restaurant... well, maybe you should take advantage of the situation."

"Mom!"

Her laugh rings through the room. "What? I'm serious! When else will you get the chance to dine at Chicago's finest restaurants? Let him wine and dine you."

"That's terrible."

"Is it? A few nice dinners, maybe some shopping..." She picks up the stuffed penguin and makes it dance. "New shoes?"

"I can't believe you're suggesting this."

"All I'm saying is, if he's going to pursue you just to get to the restaurant, make him work for it. Get something out of it." She winks. "That's just good business sense."

"You're as bad as Dad."

"Worse. Where do you think he learned it from?" She stands, smoothing her skirt. "Now try on the dress. And remember - whatever his motives, you're Aileen Marella. You've got nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"Yeah, I'm a Marella." The words come out stronger than I expect. Mom's right - I've got nothing to lose here.

"Damn right you are." Mom squeezes my shoulder.

The doorbell chimes downstairs and my heart slams against my ribs. Oh god. He's here. He's actually here.

"You finish getting ready, sweetie. I'll go entertain your date."

"No!" The gold dress pools around my feet as I snatch it up. "Just- just give me two minutes!"

I shimmy into the dress at light speed, nearly popping a seam. The fabric whispers against my skin as I zip it up. Mom's dress fits like it was made for me, hugging curves I didn't even know I had.

Dad's voice booms from downstairs.

"I'll get it!"

No no no. My fingers fumble with the clasp of my necklace. The last thing I need is Dad interrogating Charles Varakian about his intentions.

Mom's heels click toward the stairs. "Sam, let me-"

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