Chapter Three

An Awkward Dinner * A Proposal

* Good Advice

Isabelle Grace Benson was excited. She was finally going to meet Samantha Puckett. Growing up in the Benson household, she had heard story after story about Carly, but not a peep about the other member of the iCarly trio. She had only found about Samantha after watching several episodes of iCarly at her godmother's house. After she asked Aunt Carly about the golden haired girl, all she received was a sad shake of the head and a muttered something about letting sleeping dragons lie. Not completely understanding the phrase, Izzy understood enough to let the matter drop, at least for the moment. But with her mom getting sick and all, she never did get the chance to ask again.

So Isabelle once again stood in front of the Canlis restaurant, her stomach churning with excitement. Sure, she would be missing her favorite band playing, and the delicious chicken fingers she devoured every Wednesday night, but this WAS the Canlis restaurant. There was just something about this restaurant that just drew her. Maybe it was all the place settings, or it could just be the whole properness of it all. But to be honest, she loved the dressing up part, and seeing all the adults dressed up.

The same maitre d was there when they walked up. Quickly wiping the sneer that seem to have taken a permanent residence on his face, he greeted Izzy and her father quite warmly. "Sir, and young miss, please come this way. The same private room you used last time is reserved for you." They followed him back to the same room, and found it empty. "Once again," the maitre d said, "you're the first ones here..."

Her father smiled a tight smile at the other man, "well, you know, five minutes early is on time..."

Seeming to wither under her father's gaze, the maitre d replied, "of course, of course. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask." He quickly departed the room, leaving father and daughter all alone.

Izzy watched her normally well composed father pace the floor with nervous energy. He seemed to be having an internal debate with himself, at times nodding his head while at other times shaking it. She briefly wondered what had her father in such a nervous state when Aunt Carly swept in. Izzy loved seeing her godmother on the red carpet. Elegant was the word most magazines used to describe her. And here she was looking just as elegant in a deep purple dress. But following her godmother was somebody who looked as elegant and composed, if not even more confident. With her long blonde hair and creamy white skin providing a stark contrast to her long black evening dress, Samantha Puckett glided confidently into the room. Izzy could not help but stare, and she heard the sharp intake of breath coming from her father's direction.

Carly walked over to Freddie and kissed him on the cheek. "Freddie." With that, she bent and gave Izzy a tight hug. "Hello Izzy," she said. And in a voice that only Izzy could hear, "my idea..." Carly and Izzy watched as the other two in the room stared at each other silently. Carly coughed softly which broke Sam and Freddie out of their impromptu staring contest. She elegantly tipped her head towards the waiting table, and the four took their seats. On that cue, a seeming legion of waiters descended upon them and dinner was served.

Halfway through the dinner filled with idle chit chat, her father shook his head and pushed his plate away. "I can't do this..." He looked at Carly, "Carly, can Izzy spend the night with you tonight?" After seeing Carly's nod, he asked, "Little one, would you like to have a sleepover with your godmother? I have a lot of work to take care of, and it looks like it's going to be a late night."

Normally she would love to spend the night at Carly's, but Izzy shook her head, never before seeing her father act this way. Standing from her seat, she walked over to her dad and gave him a long hug. "No Poppa, I want to stay close to you tonight. You can make me a bed on the couch and I'll sleep there tonight..."

Freddie gently stroked her hair. "Please Isabelle, it'll be alright. Be a good girl for Carly, and I'll get you that dog that you've been asking for..."

Izzy looked up at her father for a long moment, before she nodded her head solemnly, saying "Ok Poppa, I'll be a good girl."

He avoided everyone's eyes as he silently held his daughter. Breaking the silence, he said, "Thanks Carly, I owe you one." He looked into Sam's eyes for a long while before nodding. "Sam." He kissed his daughter gently on the forehead. "Love you, little one..." With that, he strode out the door, leaving three surprised females in his wake.


Freddie was nervous. Full of anxious energy, he paced back and forth in front of the Cheesecake Warehouse. Occasionally, he would stare down at his watch and curse the fates. He had finally decided to propose to his long time girlfriend. And he was all set to propose tonight. The ring was safely tucked away in his right coat pocket. A romantic candlelit table was on reserve for him and his girlfriend. The dinner had already been ordered, from the opening appetizers all the way to the final dessert. But he was missing one rather important thing: his girlfriend. Sighing deeply, he looked around for an appropriate wooden beam to bang his head against.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked up expectantly, only to have his hopes dashed cruelly. Another happy couple walked passed him, both eying him with amusement. Sighing again, he turned back to his beam.

Thump.

Thump.

"Hey," he heard a female voice say. "What'cha doing that for?"

He looked up quickly and saw his girlfriend standing right next to him. Shaking his head, he thought to himself that no girl should be able to move as quietly as his significant other. "Oh no reason, just passing time while waiting for a beautiful girl..."

Her face broke out into her wonderful grin. She looked around, "Anybody I know?"

Freddie smiled broadly at her and gathered her up into a hug. "I'm holding her right now," he whispered into her ear. She smirked at him.

"I've trained you so well," she said, gently nudging him off balance.

With that, he gently led her into the restaurant and to their awaiting table. After a dinner filled with all her favorites, including fried pickles as appetizers, fried chicken for the entre, and fried twinkies and fried Snicker bars as dessert, Freddie felt not only stuffed, but much closer to death with all the cholesterol he just put into his system. Placing his hand into his coat pocket, he felt the box that had been sitting heavy there. Taking a deep breath, he dropped to one knee and stared up lovingly at his girlfriend. Though she normally hated her full name, he felt that this was an appropriate time to use it. So he said, "Samantha Joy Puckett, I love you with all my heart and I'm willing to shout it out across the Seattle skyline. So will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" He opened the box, showing a brilliant diamond ring that had taken him many months to afford.

A look that Freddie had never seen before flashed across her face. Sam stood up, one hand covering her mouth. She looked down at him, her eyes wide. But then, she shook her head. "I... I can't..." She backed away from Freddie, mouthing "I'm sorry" before turning around and fleeing the restaurant.

A stunned Freddie dropped to both knees and watched Sam disappear into the night, the last that he would see of her for a long time.


Freddie sat at the bar in Nolan's, slowly trying to drink himself away. He'd been sitting at the bar since he left the restaurant, leaving his daughter, Carly, and THAT woman behind. Though he was in time to watch the last part of the Mauler's set, nothing could distract him from the drink at hand. So he really didn't notice when the band packed up at eleven, nor did he notice when the bar virtually emptied out shortly after. But he did feel the hand that clapped him on the shoulder. "Son," he heard a gravely voice say, "I think you've had enough..."

"No, I haven't. I'm a big boy, I'll know when I've had enough," said Freddie, or so he thought. It came out more than a bit mumbled.

"Coffee you say. Well, ok then." Luke shook his head and gestured to Arnold, "Two coffees, put a little extra in mine. And see if Tom can whip up a little something for Freddie's stomach." Arnold grinned and nodded, yelling something towards the kitchen before placing two coffee cups on the bar. Luke watched Freddie eat the pancakes that were put before him, and after about an hour, he judged him somewhat a bit more coherent, and so began a conversation with him. A long time practitioner of the lost art of listening, Luke sat still as Freddie started to rant and rave about all his conflicted feelings towards one Sam Puckett. After about an hour, during which the bar officially closed down and only the workers and a couple of friends were left, Freddie was done and slumped forward in his seat.

Luke looked over at the man next to him. He was gently reminded of his son, several years dead. "Freddie, son, I don't know the whole story between you and this Sam girl. I know there's stuff that you're not telling me, stuff that you probably haven't even realized yet. You need to go talk to somebody that you trust, really trust, somebody that knows the whole story. You might get a better perspective if you do. But listen to this, you, you're family. I see how you treat the people who work here, and how you treat your daughter. You're a good man. It's rough raising a child by yourself, so if you need anything, anything at all, we got your back, ok son?"

Freddie could only nod mutely at this.

"Ok, you've had over two hours to sober up. Think you can drive now? Touch the tip of your nose with alternating hands." He watched Freddie with a practiced eye. "Ok, not too bad. Go home, ok Freddie."

At the mention of home, Freddie's eyes lit up. Standing slowly up, he looked over at the older man, "Thanks Luke, thanks for everything." After shaking Luke's hand firmly, he steadily moved across the floor, exiting the door with just barely a stumble.

Luke shook his head slightly, and then looked over at the table where a game of poker was being played. "Irish, Tiny, can you follow him and make sure he stays out of trouble?" Two rather large and burly bikers nodded and padded out of the bar. He listened to the roar of two motorcycles fade into the distance, and sat in the chair that Tiny had vacated. After being dealt a hand, he stared blankly at his cards, thinking only about a son long gone.