Chapter 14: Manners

"Well, my sister Lily is--" her voice paused, "was, the most amazing person ever. Growing up, I wanted to be just like her. Everything about her was completely brill."

"Wait," Sarah Lindsay interrupted, "don't you have two sisters?"

"Unfortunately," Isabelle replied darkly. "And according to Petunia, Lily and I are rotten branches on the family tree. There's a reason why I'm here, in America, instead of with my sister. Petunia's horrid. Isn't that right, Harry?"

"Yup," he chirped. "Love you, Aunt Is-belle."

"Love you too. Anyway, during my fifth year at Hogwarts--"

"Two years ago, right?" Sarah Lindsay cut in.

"Are you going to let me tell this story, or not?" Isabelle huffed, exasperated. "Yes, it was two years ago, and Lily surprised me at the train station in Hogsmeade..."

"Isabelle!" Lily called out after her sister, watching her blonde ponytail bob about fifteen feet ahead of her. "Isabelle Rose, wait up!"

At the sound of her full name, the teenager whipped around, a pleasantly shocked look on her face. She happily dashed to her sister and engulfed Lily in a wild hug. "Lily, what are you doing here? I thought you were meeting me in London."

"Surprise," Lily grinned. "Thought we could spend the day shopping in town. That is, if you don't have any other plans..."

"Really?" Isabelle squealed, barely concealing her excitement.

"Really. The men are on baby patrol today, and I told them not to expect us until late. It's been an eternity since I've had a girl's day." Lily's face drooped slightly, and Isabelle instantly knew that she was thinking of Regina.

"I'm sorry." She ruins everything, and she's dead, Isabelle thought crossly. Her sister raised an amused eyebrow.

"Is that right?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Isabelle blurted out, horrified. "I mean, all of you must still be shattered, it being the first holidays without her and all. And--"

Lily laughed, completely amused as her sister stumbled over her words. "It's all right. And no, I'm not shopping with you because I don't have anyone else to go with. I have other friends. I want to spend the day with you."

"Ouch," Sarah Lindsay sympathized.

"Tell me about it. I felt like such a thoughtless idiot," Isabelle sighted. "Wait a minute. How could your sister read your mind?"

Oh, snot, she thought. "She didn't, silly. I must've accidentally mumbled it underneath my breath."

"Ok...."

Isabelle quickly began the story again to shut Sarah Lindsay up, feeling stupid for mentioning mindreading. Luckily her friend was still pretty ignorant about the wizarding world, so Isabelle could cover her tracks easily.

"So, who are you going with to the Christmas party?" Lily asked curiously, pausing to take a sip of tea. Isabelle thoughtfully chewed her sandwich before answering.

"No one."

"Nobody? I thought you were dating what's-his-face from Ravenclaw? The Indian boy."

"Half-Indian, half-Veela. And his name is Andrew."

"Half-Veela, huh?" Lily's green eyes twinkled mischievously. "No wonder you got caught in the prefects' bathroom doing--"

"Lily!" Isabelle was scandalized, her usually pale face bright red. "I can't believe you brought that up – in a public restaurant!"

Her sister shrugged casually. "No one's listening, love. Is it true what they say about Veelas?"

If looks could kill, Lily Potter would have collapsed to the floor in a lifeless heap. After their heart-to-heart at Halloween, Lily viewed her younger sister through a new perspective. Now, she wasn't afraid to press an issue with Isabelle, even if was just for merriment's sake.

"Aw, come on. You can tell me, woman to woman. I'm honestly curious!" Lily inquired further.

"Well..." she leaned over the table, "yeah."

"And you're being careful?" An undertone of steel tinged her words. Despite viewing Isabelle as more adult than child, Lily still worried about her sister's choices.

"You know we were. Don't worry, I love Harry and Gracie and all, but I can wait a while for one of my own. Which is why I broke it off with Andrew. He wants, well, a serious relationship. And after we talked at Halloween, I decided to take your advice and focus on school for a while. So, no date."

Lily inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, there's nothing wrong with that."

"So there was someone before Phillip," Sarah Lindsay said quietly. "I kinda thought so, but it wasn't my business to ask."

"Two someones." Isabelle stared at the floor nervously. "What about you?"

"Nobody. I'm saving myself for Richard Gere."

"Seriously!" Isabelle swatted her friend with a pillow.

"I'm being serious. Haven't you seen An Officer and a Gentleman?"

"No."

"Good movie. Anyway, no, I've never..."

"Not even with Thomas?" Isabelle asked, surprised.

"Nope. Just not ready."

"I wasn't ready either," she admitted. "It was so stupid. And pretty meaningless. I couldn't messed up my whole life, and for what? For stupid boys who weren't even at my own funeral! Shows how much they cared."

Sarah Lindsay wrapped a supportive arm around Isabelle. "It's pretty messed up to go to your own funeral in the first place. And I think Lily was right. We're way better off doing the school thing and leaving boys the heck alone."

"This is coming from someone with a steady boyfriend?" She put her head down on her friend's shoulder and sighed heavily.

"Who I'd dump in a heartbeat if he came between me and my future. I'm getting out of this place. I might have been born white trash, but I'm not dying that way!"

"I wish I was as focused as you."

"Comes from being a product of an extremely dysfunctional family. But enough of my issues. Weren't you telling a story?"

Isabelle sat up, stuck out her tongue, and continued. "Anyway, we spent the rest of the day shopping for dresses for the party. A couple of days later, I had to try on my dress to make some minor alterations. That's when all hell broke loose."

"Are you sure that coral's my color?" Isabelle asked nervously, pirouetting in front of the mirror. "It's a little girly."

"You're a girl, aren't you?" Lily mumbled through a mouthful of pins.

"Yeah, I guess." She narrowed her eyes at her reflection.

"You guess? If you haven't figured it out by now..."

"Hardy-har-har," Isabelle said sardonically. "You know what I meant. I'm not really a pink wearing kind of girl. I'm more like a tree-climbing, outdoorsy kind of girl. It is a pretty dress, though."

Lily smiled as she charmed the hemline down about an inch. "A very adult-ish dress."

"It is, isn't it? No more stupid little girl stuff."

"Hey, Lily!" James' voice bellowed from down the hallway. "I need to go out for an hour or two. Can you mind the kids?"

"Going to the pub with your mates, are you?" she screamed back, trying to decide whether the gown needed to be taken in at the waistline.

"Would you say no if I was honest?" came the reply.

"Maybe. Bring the kids in here before you go. And be sure to check their nappies first," Lily called out. "James has a nasty habit of passing off a baby with a dirty diaper. Disgusting."

A minute later, James knocked on the partially open door before walking in with Harry in one arm and Gracie in the other. His jaw dropped open in shock when he saw Isabelle. Neither sister noticed his expression until he spoke. "What on earth is she wearing?" he said, putting the babies on Isabelle's bed and pointing at the teenager angrily.

"A ballgown," Lily said calmly, giving her husband a Look. "For the party tomorrow night."

James' face flushed bright red as he clenched his fists tightly. "She is not wearing that to the Christmas party. It's not appropriate. She's a kid!"

"Isabelle is a young woman, and it's time we all started treating her as such. She looks lovely." Lily's voice had a razor-sharp edge to it. No one told her how to raise her sister, even James.

"You think I'm nutters, don't you?" he asked as his wife nodded. "I'm not crazy. Hold on for a minute. Hey, Sirius, come up here! I want your opinion on something."

"What?"

"Isabelle's dress," James screamed. At that, Sirius thundered upstairs and peered inside the doorway.

"Okay, nice slip. Where's the rest of the dress?" he asked innocently.

"That is the dress," James replied snidely, waiting for the explosion.

"Oh, hell no!" Sirius pronounced, enunciating each syllable slowly and loudly. "Hell fucking no."

Isabelle turned around, staring at him with wide, hurt eyes. "Don't you like it?"

"Where's the back of the dress?" Sirius asked in a high-pitched voice, as if he hadn't heard Isabelle at all. "You're practically naked from the waist up. Practically, nothing. What's that, four pieces of string stuff across the back?"

"Rhinestones. And it's the fashion," Isabelle said defensively.

"Oh, don't pull that one on me. I was married to a fashion designer, so I know what's in style and what's not. And going half-naked to a party is..."

"Tacky," James supplied helpfully. "Especially for a fifteen-year old. Not to mention that scarf you call a dress is so low in the front that it shows well, it shows--"

"Cleavage? News flash to both of you. I'm not a kid anymore. I have hips, and a waist, and – horror of all horrors – cleavage," Isabelle snapped. She didn't know if she was more angry or upset at their reaction. Both men pursed their faces as if they had bit into Lily's cooking.

"You're not just a kid," Sirius snapped back. "You're my kid, and as your guardian, I forbid you from wearing that tomorrow night."

"Yeah, what he said," James agreed, shooting Lily a triumphant look.

"Oh, yeah? Well, in that case, I'm not going to the party. I'll stay here and watch the kids. At least they treat me with some respect." With that, Isabelle ran into her bathroom, charmed the door locked, and cried her eyes out.

Isabelle sighed, then covered a sleepy-eyed Harry with a thin blanket. "He should be up in an hour or so. Never has slept for very long."

"Why are you changing the subject?" Sarah Lindsay asked, raising a thin eyebrow.

"Because the next bit is...well, about things I haven't told anyone about, except who was around at the time."

"You can trust me."

"I swear, if you ever tell..."

"Oh, please! You only know about a billion more really evil hexes than I do. Remember, I'm still on how to hold a wand properly? Now dish, because I'll be irked if Phillip gets here before I hear the whole story and I have to wait until tomorrow."

"Fine. You're bossy."

"Thank you." She grinned, as Isabelle grimaced before continuing.

With minute precision, Isabelle soundlessly unlocked the kitchen door and let herself inside. She'd learned how to do so as a young child, preferring the Muggle way to any other method, mostly because it was quicker. Because of her pity party, she missed dinner and was extremely hungry. So, she opened the small bathroom window, repelled down the side of the house, and snuck around to the back door to steal some food, hoping not to get caught.

After deciding on a butterbeer and enormous piece of chocolate cake, she sat down at the table to eat and stew. She became so absorbed in thought that she didn't realize someone else was in the room until a large figure sat down across from her and cleared his throat hesitantly. Isabelle feigned deafness and ignored him.

For his part, Remus had absolutely no clue about what to say to the girl. Both James and Sirius heard her come in the house, and immediately jumped up to confront her. From what he'd heard of the earlier events of the evening, Remus didn't think that was an especially good idea. Unfortunately that translated into him confronting Isabelle while James and Sirius eavesdropped.

"Hello, Isabelle," he said quietly, watching her chew her cake angrily. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and wiped away a tear, leaving a chocolate smudge on her face.

"What do you want?" she growled in a low voice.

"You have chocolate on your cheek," he replied, handing her a napkin.

"And you didn't answer the question."

"That's a nice dress you're wearing," Remus said, getting straight to the point. "Are you wearing it to the Christmas party this year?"

"No. I'm not going."

"Well, that's a weird choice of nightwear, but to each their own," he joked, noticing that Isabelle smiled slightly, in spite of herself. "New trend?"

"Ha. Since when do I know what's in style?" she answered listlessly, self-effacingly. She blinked back more tears, not wanting to appear weak.

"Here." Remus slid a handkerchief across the table. "So, why are you skipping the party? Hot date?"

"Not hardly," she sniffled. "And if it was up to James and Sirius, they'd lock me in my room until I died of old age. Besides, you already know why I'm not going. I don't get it! You and Lily both treat me like I'm an adult. Well, adult-ish at least. What's their problem?"

"James is freakishly overprotective and Sirius is completely insane. Any more questions?"

Isabelle burst into laughter, shooting butterbeer from her nose in a highly unladylike fashion. "I do love you, Remus. I really do."

"Well, I'm kinda fond of you, too, kid," he winked, setting down his own butterbeer thoughtfully. "All right, can you handle it if I give you my honest, adult opinion?"

"Yes." She stared at him expectantly.

"You need to stop talking at James and Sirius and start talking to them about things. They're never going to see you as anything other than a little girl until you give them reason to believe otherwise. You have a huge chip on your shoulder towards them. Why?"

"It's complicated."

"There's that attitude again."

"Fine. I ruined James' life, ok?" she burst out loudly, not noticing the surprised gasps from the other room. "If it wasn't for me, he and Lily could've had a much better life together. They would've been this nice little family, able to be you know, young and in love. Not teenage parents of a special-needs child. Do you know that they weren't much older than me when they started raising me? What kind of life is that? I'll never, ever be able to make up for that. Not to mention the money."

Remus' eyebrows shot up. "What money?"

"Nothing."

"What money?" he repeated, crossing his arms.

"Don't tell Lily?"

"Never."

"James paid Petunia a million pounds sterling if she'd sign over custody of me to Lily," she whispered, just loud enough for Sirius to hear.

"Which is–?" Remus asked, puzzled.

"A little over three hundred thousand, eleven hundred Galleons."

"Holy shit!"

"I know! I've been earning money over the years to pay him back," Isabelle admitted, twisting the napkin into a ball.

"Um, kinda doubting you'll be able to earn that kind of money."

"You'd be surprised," she mumbled underneath her breath, thinking of her secret bank account and the amount of gold in the vault.

Because of his heightened senses, Remus heard James and Sirius quietly sneak upstairs into the nursery and begin arguing. So, he turned to Isabelle and asked, "That covers James. What about Sirius?"

"What about him?" she fired back immediately, in an innocent tone.

"Isabelle, you know what I mean. It's pretty obvious."

"To him, too?" she managed to choke out.

"No, I'd definitely say your secret's safe from him," Remus assured her, as she exhaled loudly. "Obvious to the rest of the western world, but not our dear Padfoot."

"What secret?" Sarah Lindsay leaned forward eagerly, practically shaking with curiosity. Isabelle sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"It's nothing."

"Then why aren't you telling?" She looked like she would burst any second.

"All right, I admit it!" Isabelle lied, hiding a smirk behind her hand, determined to change the subject. "I didn't want him knowing about getting caught with my ex-boyfriend in the Prefect's bathroom."

"Him meaning Sirius Black?" She said the last two words loudly, causing Isabelle to quickly cover Sarah Lindsay's mouth with her hand.

"Shhhh! Don't ever say his name out loud, especially not here."

"Why not?" Sarah Lindsay's eyes filled with tears. "Did I do something wrong? Oh, I am so stupid. I'll never get the hang of this witch thing!"

Isabelle bit her lip, feeling horrible. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's just that, um, Harry's uncle is a sore subject in this household. Never bring him up in front of Severus. I can't tell you why, because it's personal and I'm not even supposed to know. But, I'll be in trouble if you do, so please don't?"

"Ok, I won't. I'm sorry." She still appeared ready to cry at the slightest provocation.

"And you'll be a wonderful witch. Honest. So stop being so hard on yourself!"

"That won't happen anytime soon," Sarah Lindsay sniffled, trying to pull herself together. Isabelle passed her a tissue and decided to continue the story. Sometimes changing the subject was far better than dwelling, anyway.

The next afternoon, James found Isabelle in the nursery rocking Harry. After setting down a large package in the hallway, he walked inside and cleared his throat. She looked up, then back down at the baby, choosing to pretend that James didn't exist.

When he didn't leave, she stopped rocking, sat straight up, and said, "What do you want?"

"To talk," he replied evenly, with a disarmingly kind smile. "You're really good with Harry. I really appreciate how much you take care of him when you're on break. Gives Lily and I some, uh--"

"Private time?" she finished devilishly.

"Yeah, that," he said sheepishly. He took out his wand, pulled a chair across the room, and sat down. "I was walking around on lunch break today, and saw something you might like. As thanks for all you do with the kids and all."

Isabelle frowned. "If it's a new dress, something little girl-ish, you can just take it back. Because not only did I say that there's no way in this universe that I'm going to the party, I'm definitely not going in something you picked out."

"Fair enough. Look, about yesterday, I'm sorry. What I said was a little out of line. Could you possibly forgive me?" James asked with a hopeful expression.

"Why should I?" she huffed. Harry stirred and yawned. Isabelle began rocking again, so he would fall back asleep. "You really hurt my feelings."

"I know. But I'm sorry! And I bought you a present." He smiled internally, watching her pretend to be disinterested. "Don't you want to see it?"

"Maybe," she considered thoughtfully.

James pointed his wand behind him and summoned the large, brightly packaged box to his lap. Isabelle's eyes took in the wide, blue velvet ribbon, her fingers itching to untie the bow. Finally, her curiosity got the best of her. She carefully put Harry down in his crib, and ripped into the box.

Inside was the most beautiful wrap Isabelle had ever seen. She sighed happily, pulling out the delicate silk fabric. Large, beaded flowers covered the deep rose scarf, which was surprisingly light for being so richly decorated. The edges of the fabric blended into intricate beaded tassels that shimmered in the fading light. James worried that she didn't like it, because she was so quiet, and leaned forward, concerned.

"If it's not your style, we can always take it back," he suggested.

"Oh, no!" Isabelle exclaimed, hugging the box to her chest possessively. "No, it's gorgeous. I just wouldn't know where I'd where it. It's far too pretty to put with my Hogwarts robes..."

"Well, I was hoping you'd wear it tonight," James said, as her puzzled eyes bore into his. "To the party. Every lady needs the proper accessories to her dress, right?"

"I'm hardly a lady," she mumbled, blushing.

"No, but you're getting there. Isabelle, I'd like to make a deal with you. If you'd be willing to wear the wrap with your dress tonight, I promise not to be a total jerk about you growing up."

She seriously considered his compromise. "Maybe."

"Well, think about it? I'm sorry I'm not dealing well with you not being little anymore. If it makes you feel better, it's not just about you with 'cleavage and a waist', as you put it. It's about feeling useless," James confessed, leaning his chair backwards.

"I don't understand."

"When you were little, you were pretty needy," he said slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. "Being needed makes you feel important. And now that you don't need me, since you've grown so independent, I feel useless. You used to come running with all your problems, but now? This is the longest conversation we've had in a while."

Isabelle's eyes stung. She didn't realize how much James really cared. "I still need you. Just not the same way."

"Really?" he asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Yeah. Want to play Quidditch for a few? I have some time before I have to get ready."

"Sure," he replied, as they smiled shyly at each other.

Isabelle quickly pulled on the gown and deftly charmed the rhinestone strings together while trying to decide whether to wear her hair up, or down. It had grown nearly a foot since the last time she had worn the dress. Perhaps, if she wore her up, or at least differently, Phillip might not notice that it was the exact same outfit as the night they met.

"That is so weird," Sarah Lindsay said, watching Isabelle sift through her hair clips.

"What?" she asked, distractedly, deciding on her favorite sapphire and platinum clip.

"The charming your dress shut thing. I don't think I'll ever get used to this magic thing."

Isabelle laughed. "Oh, you will, trust me. I'll have to teach you all the little tricks my sister showed me. You'll never want to get dressed the Muggle way again."

"Holy cow," Sarah Lindsay whistled, as Isabelle fixed her hair into a series of cascading curls. "Where did you get that from? Are those real sapphires?"

"That they are. It was a gift from my sister a long, long time ago," she explained, looking at her reflection with satisfaction. She carefully unwrapped her shoes, pausing for a minute to admire them.

"Oh! What about the shoes? How did you get those?"

"Well," Isabelle began...

"Um, hello?" Isabelle heard Sirius hesitantly call out through her closed bedroom door. "Are you in there?"

"Yes," she replied shortly, unwilling to talk to him.

"May I come in?"

"I guess."

Focused on fastening her earrings, she didn't notice the brief cloud of sadness that overtook Sirius' face when he first saw her, dressed for the party. "You look beautiful, Isabelle."

Her knees weakened and she clutched the edge of her dresser for support. Whirling around, she breathed, "Do you really think so?"

"I do," he nodded. "Do you have time to talk for a minute?"

"I don't have time to listen to you rant and rave about me being a child," she said, raising her chin defiantly. Sirius smiled sheepishly and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Then I can be straight with you then," he said evenly. "Isabelle, this year, these past few years, really, have been very hard on me."

"I know," she said softly, her heart aching as his eyes blinked back a tear. She desperately wanted to comfort him, but she willed herself to sit on the bed, instead.

"Everyone I love, I lose. I don't want to lose you, too," he burst out in a choked voice.

"Oh, Sirius, you'll never lose me, ever!" Isabelle swore, meaning every syllable with every fiber of her being.

He began pacing the room, agitated. "I am losing you, Belle. You're my little girl, and you're not so little anymore. Just like everyone else, you're going to leave me."

"I'll never leave you," she whispered through tears. "Ever."

"Yes, you will," he insisted. "It's only a matter of time. I mean, look at you. One of these days you'll notice one of those stupid boys who follow you around all the time, and you'll go off with him. And, that's all right, I guess. You're supposed to grow up, but it seems so sudden. I wish you could be little forever, and that's selfish, because that way, I'm not getting older, either."

Isabelle didn't know how to reply to that, so she simply said, "I see."

"I'll end up like my father, alone and bitter," Sirius concluded softly, slumping his shoulders dejectedly.

"No you won't! Your father is mean, and awful! You're nothing like him," she burst out without thinking. "You'll find someone else, right? Gracie does need a mother."

He stopped mid-stride and turned around, surprised that she would say something so forward. "Belle, a very wise person once gave me a talk about love. I don't know what you've done or haven't done, and frankly, I don't really want to. But when I was your age, I was a little on the irresponsible side. One day, this wise person had a talk with me about the stupid things I was doing. At the time, I didn't believe what I heard, but it's true."

"What's that?" she asked, curiously.

"That it makes all the difference in the world when you're with someone you really care about. Once you've been with someone like that, you just can't go back to meaningless relationships. Love's worth waiting for, Belle. I really loved Regina, and now that she's gone, I can't see myself with anyone else. Not unless I love that woman as much as I loved my wife."

"But it is possible, right?" Isabelle inquired hopefully.

"I don't see how," Sirius answered honestly. "I don't know if I could love anyone that way again. But anyway, that doesn't have anything to do with you, so don't worry about it, okay? Don't worry about me."

"But--"

"But nothing. I didn't come here to bother you with my problems."

"You're never a problem to me." Isabelle felt frustrated. Why couldn't he see that he was her business? That she wanted nothing more than to make him happy? Why wouldn't he give her a chance to try to make him happy?

He smiled. "Likewise. I picked up something for your outfit tonight, to apologize for being a selfish jerk. And no, I'm not trying to buy your affection. It's my way of admitting that you're growing up and I need to get over that. So, could you forgive me?"

"Always."

"So, he bought you the shoes?" Sarah Lindsay concluded, careful not to speak his name aloud.

"He did," Isabelle said, right as she heard a knock at the door. "I guess that's Phillip. You'll owl me if something goes wrong tonight? I'll be home early, promise."

Her friend rolled her eyes and practically pushed her out of the bedroom. "Take your time. Go, already. Have fun."

"Ha," she snorted, walking through the apartment and opening the front door.

Phillip stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded. Never, in his wildest dreams, did he expect to see her to look so beautiful. Her hair delicately framed her oval face, and tumbled down her shoulders, creating a soft, feminine look. Usually Isabelle appeared quite causal and sporty, but tonight, she was all elegance, the dress showing off her slender figure to perfection.

"Will this do?" she asked, feeling insecure since he hadn't commented on her appearance. Perhaps she was underdressed, or out of style.

"Do? Isabelle, in that dress, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he said, turning slightly pink and shoving his hands in his suit pockets embarrassingly.

"Good, because it's the only party dress I own," she admitted, as he helped her into her coat.

"What? A socialite like you? I don't believe it for a second."

"Believe it," Isabelle insisted, following Phillip to his car. "I was hardly a socialite. My sister, maybe. Regina, definitely. But, I'm more of a homebody. Well, I was."

He opened her car door, causing her to deeply frown as he took care not to catch her gown in the door. She promised to be his date for the evening, but apparently he didn't trust her. Why else would he feel the need to help her in the car, other than to charm the door so she couldn't run away?

She had hoped for an amicable, perhaps even pleasant evening, but those hopes died with the knowledge that he had no faith in her word. Her irritation grew when Phillip helped her from the car, and opened the lobby door of the Williamsburg Inn for her. She barely noticed the picturesque lobby through her angry, slitted eyes.

"What's the matter?" Phillip asked, cluelessly puzzled as to her odd behavior.

"You, you, horrible jerk," Isabelle stuttered in a forced whisper. "How dare you treat me this way and then have the nerve to ask what's the matter?"

"What did I do?" He took a small step back as she fumed, wondering what British etiquette rule he had violated. Whatever it was, it truly offended her, and he felt stupid and country.

"Charming the doors shut behind me so that I can't leave. Look, I promised you that I'd be your date. My word's enough, and it makes me mad that you don't trust me enough to do a simple favor. And to think, I thought tonight might actually be a little fun!"

The corners of Phillip's eyes crinkled up, and he cleverly disguised a laughing fit as a short cough. "You think," cough, "Isabelle, try the door."

"Fine." She marched to the lobby door, and to her great surprise, it swung open easily. Confused, she stood in the doorway. "I don't understand."

"Well, you make an awfully pretty doorman." Phillip couldn't hide his amusement any longer. "Come here, let's sit down for a minute."

He guided her to a small sofa in a corner of the lobby and explained, "I do trust you, Isabelle. By now, you should know that. I don't know how things are done where you're from, but here, when a guy's on a date with a girl, he does stuff like open doors."

"Why? I can open my own doors. I'm not weak or helpless." She looked hopelessly confused. Phillip thought for a minute. He'd never really questioned it before.

"I don't know why other guys do it, but I was raised to treat women with respect," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "It's just a sign of respect, that's all. No way I'd ever think you're weak or helpless."

Isabelle blushed and wanted to crawl underneath the couch. "Oh. I feel so stupid."

"Don't. And for the record, I plan on making sure tonight's fun," he said boldly, standing up and automatically offering his hand to help her up. Determined to be ladylike despite her ignorance, she took his hand, stood, and impulsively decided to continue holding it as they headed towards the banquet hall.