Chapter 19
Boston, MA
Philip
CHARLES’ EXPRESSION WAS a little odd as the four of us climbed the steps leading to the entrance of the restaurant, and we were barely inside when I began to understand why. The maître d’, a good-looking young man who was a poster boy for the quintessential Italian, saw Charles and literally sprang from behind his little podium and trotted quickly forward to greet us instead of waiting for us to come to him.
“Charles,” he said, ignoring the rest of us while giving Charles a hug and a kiss on both cheeks European style, “it’s been too long since we’ve seen you. Wait right here while I run and get Mama and Papa.” Before Charles could reply, the young man literally ran to the back of the reception area and disappeared from view for a minute or two. Then he ret
