“What time will you be arriving at the county club tonight?” my sister Nicole asks me over the phone. “Brad was excited when I told him you snagged us extra tickets to join you at the Mayor’s table. Are Mom and Dad coming too?”

“Yes, they’ll be there,” I say. “You know Dad wouldn’t miss the chance to hobnob with the Atlanta Mayor. He mentioned a new development he’s working on that needs special zoning. I hope he doesn’t bore everyone with business talk all night.”

Nicole lets out a knowing laugh. “Well, it wouldn’t be dinner with Dad if he didn’t. When have you ever known him not to talk business at the table?”

“Never,” I say.

Our father is well-known in Atlanta’s social circles as a construction and real estate success story. He began his business with nothing as a young man by buying older homes, fixing them up, and selling them for a higher price. Eventually his business progressed into building large-scale shopping malls and apartment complexes scattered across the Atlanta area.

Now he’s a pillar of Atlanta society. My mother does her part by frequently volunteering as chairman for various social committees and charity fund-raisers. She puts in as many hours as he does without complaining. They’ve built a good life for themselves, and for my sister and me.

My dad brought us up to work hard and to never accept anything less than total success from ourselves. No excuses, Dad always told me.

When I chose to major in Communications in college instead of following Nicole’s path into the Science or Math field, my parents pouted for months. Dad was certain I would never be able to support myself doing something as frivolous as news reporting. To this day, he still brings it up every time we’re together. Always worrying about my job security. Nothing would make them happier than if I found a rich guy who Dad deems to be successful and worthy enough to be his son-in-law.

Like Nicole’s husband, Brad.

Dad was thrilled when Nicole married him. Brad was quite a catch, being a partner in one of the large accounting firms located downtown. Dad immediately found ways to involve him in the family business, first by sending him the firm’s CPA work then by asking him to join the Board of Directors.

Sometimes when I’m listening to one of Brad’s dull conversations that usually involve upcoming changes in the tax code, I wonder why my sister married him. She used to be lively and full of fun. Now she’s almost as bland and boring as he is.

No matter what, I’m not going to end up in the same situation.

Life is too short to settle.

“Will seven o’clock be too early to arrive?” Nicole asks. “Brad wants to work in a bit of networking during the cocktail hour.”

I roll my eyes, glad that Nicole can’t see me. Everything is business with my family. Tonight’s dinner is supposed to be about honoring Toby for saving people’s lives at the mall. Not an opportunity to wheel and deal.

“Seven will be fine,” I say. “We’ll see you then.”

“What do you mean by we?” Nicole asks, suddenly more interested in what I have to say. “Who is we? Are you bringing a date?”

I haven’t told my family yet that I’m seeing Toby personally. Somehow the time hasn’t seemed right.

“Toby, the guest of honor, is swinging by my apartment to pick me up,” I say. “I thought it might be easier for him if he arrived with someone he knew. The country club can be intimidating to newcomers.”

“Surely you’re not coming to dinner with the guy from the mall shooting?” Nicole sounds aghast at the thought. “Doesn’t he have a bunch of ugly tattoos and ride a motorcycle? Mom will throw a hissy fit. If you need a lift, we can pick you up on the way.”

“No, we’ve already planned to ride together,” I say. “And Toby is sitting at our table, so please be nice. For my sake. Don’t forget he saved my life and the lives of others. That’s the whole point of the dinner. It’s an award ceremony, remember?”

“I know,” she says. “I’m grateful to him. You’re the only little sister I have. It’s just that I’m sure this Toby fellow will be fine on his own. You shouldn’t feel obligated to ride with him. What does he drive anyway? A pickup truck? The valet parking guys will get a kick out of that.”

Here we go, just as expected.

I bite my lip to keep from going off on my sister. My goal is to just make it through the dinner tonight without any issues between everyone.

My sister’s superior attitude is already showing. I expected it, so it’s not a surprise. She’s never been one to be able to look past a man’s checking account to see what’s inside.

“He’s a good man,” I say. “You’ll like Toby.”

I’m not certain she will. Not that it matters to me what she thinks. I’m past the point in my life of asking for permission of who I can date.

“Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this?” she asks again. “Think about how it will reflect on Dad’s image in the community if you show up with a motorcycle gang member.”

“I don’t care,” I snap in frustration. “And Toby is not a gang member.”

Nicole is getting out of line and pushing the limits of my patience.

“Don’t get all snippy at me,” she says. “I’m trying to be helpful. At the very least tell me the guy is hot. There must be a good reason why you’ve taken him under your wing. You always were the type to bring home every stray animal you could find.”

Now she’s trying to placate me in her weird way.

“He’s a very attractive man,” I say. “If there’s one thing we can agree on, it will be that.”

“Now you’ve perked my interest,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet him since I haven’t seen you really into a guy in a long time. We’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

“See you then.”