It was his dimples; the ones that were still painfully obvious when she had tossed her plate at his head and even followed with the knife. He'd lost his cool and only spoken the truth. The same facts she had heard countless times from her older sister and the lone best friend who remained in her life even after years of uppity shenanigans.

Lulu Marx was a control freak who thought herself better than everyone else, even Dennison Lord.

It was beyond hilarious, a name fit for an attorney born and bred into his legal ease, but no the moniker belonged to a man who took her to a den of meat for dinner, paid his rent as a substitute gym teacher, and possessed the warmest set of brown eyes. She had wanted a second date when from the moment Dennison Lord sat down and babbled endlessly about Raul the janitor and his brother that ‘managed' the restaurant.

And now that same loser on paper was the only person that occupied her thoughts between conference calls and urgent internal memos.

Was she that desperate?

Was she that tired of rolling over and meeting the cold sheets on the left side of the bed that laughed mercilessly at the ache between her thighs?

No she wasn't desperate, pathetic was a better description.

Lulu had done her best to mask her internal debate between desperate versus pathetic but her mother had seen the difference in her eyes when she appeared on her parents' doorstep two days after her first date with Dennison. It was immediately following Sunday morning service and daughter had arrived to help mother with preparing for the influx of hungry relatives seeking a free meal.

Alice Marx hadn't said a word; there was no need the one eye visible from her graying swooped bangs said it all. The matriarch of the Marx family took off her good heels, slid her feet into a pair of flats, and busied herself with setting the table for the family and friends that would soon fill her home.

Lulu had followed her mother's lead, ignoring the elephant in the room, grabbing the platter for the slices of ham, and the serving spoons for the bounty of sides.

"You meet someone girl?"

She had nearly dropped the bowl of sweet potatoes when the question connected with her ears. The same woman who had been unable to distinguish gay from straight when she arranged a date for her daughter with the Pac - Sun clad IT guy, had hit the figurative nail on the head.

"No ma'am?"

Her mother shook her head, "Lying heifa, I just left Jesus' house, and you got me wantin' to cuss."

Lulu just let her mother vent and attempted to mask her smile as she strategically placed the bowls, platters, and dishes on the table; until she couldn't remain silent another moment. She had bent her mother's ears with the details.

The online dating profile...

The disastrous first date...

The amusing conversations occurring between her and Dennison morning, noon, and night...

And the only thing Alice Marx had to say, "When can I expect his feet under my table for dinner?"

If only it were that easy. She had tried to explain to no avail.

"How did I raise such a bourgeois child?" The older woman wiped her hands on her apron, "Your daddy didn't have a pot to piss in, when we met, could barely do anything other than run a football fifty yards for a touchdown, but, a good woman, a strong woman, with the patience of a saint can do a lot to steer a man in the right direction."

Patience was not a concept or a word that Lulu was well versed in, still she attempted to follow her mother's quasi advice. She planned to accomplish something on her second date with Dennison that she hadn't on the first, to simply have a good time.

~`~

Dennison Lord made it a point to stay away from Rockland County New York, especially West Nyack. If he had to be more than specific, he refused to travel to the four bedroom house on Stonehedge Drive. The home of his parents that acted as an erected shrine in the cozy suburb, housing memories of the outlandish sibling battles between Dennison and his younger, more attractive, perfect in every way brother, Heath. He didn't want to engage in discussions about Viking Football and the talented offensive coordinator, his brother, who was destined to take over for the soon to be retiring athletic director. He couldn't stomach a conversation about the

PTA, or the president of the organization who just so happened to be Heath's wife, who still had a supermodel - esque body after shitting out three equally obnoxious kids.

He was still contemplating a run for freedom, when he abandoned the heap of junk Accord he had been driving since high school, in the freshly paved drive that ran in front of his parents' home. He walked around the back of the house, crunching on the turf like grass until he found his father sifting wayward leaves out of the pool with a net.

"Well look what the devil dropped on my door step."

There was no love lost between father and son. Ellis Lord never approved of Dennison's decision to move into the city after he graduated from college and accept the cushy position at the Fortune 500 media newbie. He had reiterated that fact, almost fifteen years later, when posh and well paid, quickly turned to destitute and unemployed.

"Can we skip the part where you tell me I'm a loser, compare me to Heath, and practically spit in my face?"

Ellis shrugged and turned his attention back to the pool, "Whaddya want?"

His father's heavy Scottish brogue grew heavier in his irritation; Dennison ignored it and stood his ground, "I want to see Ma."

A growl and a, "Pfft," were the only responses he received to his request before his father shook his head to the right and spit, "She's in the kitchen, don't bother her long, she's..."

The man swallowed his words and Dennison didn't miss the hint of sorrow or the slouch in his father's five - ten stature. His height had been an anomaly, something blamed on his mother's genetics. At nearly six foot one, Susan Lord, was a towering figure of a woman. Deep dark eyes, prominent cheek bones, and a wicked tongue.

"Denny."

He resisted the urge to run to the open arms that greeted him. Instead he shuffled his feet, but quickly found his way to his mother's embrace.

"Next time, punch that short little man in the top of his head and that will shut him the fuck up."

She had a way with words. He tried not to allow his eyes to linger on his mother's thinning frame or pale complexion. Chemotherapy and a cabinet full of medicine had taken its toll on her outer beauty, but nothing could dim her inner light.

Dennison led her to a seat at the counter and occupied himself with the chore of finishing the breakfast dishes she had been washing. There were reminders of his youth all around the country styled kitchen. Photos of Dennison and Heath in their old baseballs uniforms, artwork made from their painted handprints, and markings on the frame of the door tracking their growth. It felt good to be home and guilt immediately kicked him in the ass for not visiting his parents', well, his mother sooner.

"How's Heath?"

He started with the small talk.

"Still a twat."

He snickered at his mother's colorful language.

"Mrs. Twat and the baby brat twats?"

Susan Lord raised an eyebrow as she watched her son work, "Spill it Denny, I know you didn't remove that rusted tin from garaged parking to ride all the way out to Nyack to ask about your simple minded brother and his perfect family."

Dennison turned off the water and faced his mother, "I...you think...does Pop's offer for that job still stand?"

His mother pointed at the chair next to hers and Dennison took a seat.

"Always...contrary to popular belief, Ellis loves you, and is proud of you for trying to make it on your own, that's a hell of a lot more than can be said for Heath, and his looking for a handout..." Susan took a breath, pausing mid sentence and the wrinkles around her eyes crinkled when she smiled, "What's her name?"

Relieved that the truth was slowly seeping out, Dennison answered, "Lulu."

He proceeded to share the details about his new friend.

"She's really smart Ma, you'd love her," His voice slid up the scales with every word, "She works for one of those fancy medical device dealers, she's a little snooty, but hell on heels. She threw a plate at my head on our first date."

Susan laughed and it was the first moment of abandonment he'd witnessed since her diagnosis, "I would love to meet this Lulu, sounds like you picked a winner."

A week later he was slipping his feet into a pair of new loafers that matched the belt in his pants perfectly. His mother had talked his father into an advance on his salary, and so far in the three days he had been employed at the family business, Dennison had managed not to respond to his father's taunts.

Gone were his days of unwilling dumpster diving and he hoped that he made a better impression on his date for the evening.