The Wedding Wish

had chalked up his memories of Mr. Miller as a big, old grizzly bear to youthful imagination. Now he wondered if that recollection wasn’t squarely on target.
    “I’ll have what she’s having,” he told Mr. Miller, in an effort to be conciliatory. Robert didn’t want any trouble here. But he did want to spend time with Isabel. And if that meant also spending time with her family… Well then, Robert would just have to man up and do it. Mrs. Miller was pleasant enough to deal with anyway. Robert was certain all of Isabel’s good qualities must have been inherited from her.
    The older man huffed and strode away, hands jammed in his pockets.
    Once he was out of earshot, Robert turned toward Isabel with a grimace. “I’m not so sure my coming here was a good idea.”
    “Why on earth not?”
    “I don’t think your dad is so happy to see me.”
    “Oh, come on! He’s just a big, old teddy bear!”
    “Grizzly’s more like it.”
    “Okay,” she said in a whisper. “I’ll admit he sometimes comes off a little gruff. But his bark is worse than his bite.”
    Robert pursed his lips and said nothing.
    “Just give him some time to get to know you again.”
    “That’s what I mean. He never liked me in the first place!”
    “Who told you that?”
    “You did.”
    She covered her mouth with a giggle. “I did, didn’t I? Well, that wasn’t very nice. I probably shouldn’t have. And whether or not that was true… That was all those years ago. You’re a grown man now. I’m sure my dad sees you differently.”
    Robert swallowed hard, hoping that was so. It felt so great seeing Isabel again and being in her company. After they’d made an icy mess of the Student Center—and had helped to clean it up again—they’d sat, laughing and talking over old times for hours. In some ways, it had been like stepping right back in time to a faraway place that was nearly forgotten yet familiar. Isabel was lighthearted and fun to talk to, and, not so incidentally, extremely easy on the eyes. If she hadn’t had this previous engagement with her folks, he would have asked her out himself. That would have been nice too, to be able to continue their earlier conversation—alone.
    “Darling,” Kip said, reappearing and handing his daughter a glass before offering another to Robert. “I hope you like Chardonnay. It’s one of the local varieties, one of our best.”
    Robert took an appreciative sip and nodded in approval. “It’s perfect, thanks.”
    Trudy emerged from the kitchen with a sunny smile. “You’re in luck, Robert. The new dishes I’m trying are plenty enough for four.” She gave a little swivel to her hips beneath her prim A-line skirt and matching blouse and summer sweater. “Cooking Caribe, anyone?”
    As Robert and Isabel trailed her parents into the dining room, Isabel warned Robert. “Prepare yourself,” she said under her breath. “Trudy’s on a new cuisine-from-around-the-world kick. Last time, it was fried goat’s head.”
    “I’m sure I can handle it,” Robert said with a chuckle.
    Isabel shot him a quizzical look.
    “I’m in med school, remember?” he returned in low tones. “Nothing I could see would shock me.”

    Thirty minutes later, Trudy held the brimming platter in his direction. “More plátanos, Robert?”
    He stared down at the enormous glazed bananas, that—for the life of him—looked like caramelized parts of the male anatomy. “Um, no… Thanks. They’re delicious, though.”
    Isabel shot Robert a coquettish smile. “I’ll take some more,” she said, reaching for the platter. “I don’t think I could get enough.”
    Kip leaned forward and took the platter from Trudy, setting it on the table beside him. “Perhaps you’ve already had enough.”
    “But I love these! Don’t you, Mom?”
    Trudy sliced into hers with gusto, and Robert winced. “They’re to die for.”
    Kip took the napkin from his lap and splayed it open, covering the offending bananas.
    Trudy cocked her chin at him from the other end of the table.
    “So, tell me,” Kip said, addressing Robert. “How is it you ran into Isabel again?”
    “We bumped into each other on campus today,” Robert said, preparing to take another bite of pork piñon .
    “Yes,” Isabel quipped. “Didn’t I tell you? He has the most liberating job at the Art Center.”
    Trudy’s brow rose with interest. “Liberating, how?”
    Robert’s fork fell to his plate with a clank.
    “Is that where you saw each