Having spent scores of long miserable minutes with Airen trying to memorize names, Lane still  decided that it was going to be one helluva night. At least he had not been required to learn all the townies' names. Since he would meet most of them this evening, he would endeavor to maybe earn a few new friends for the Towers.

Dinner went off pretty well. Other than a couple of the younger women wrangling over the seat closest to Lane, and some polite groping of his person, everything was very civilized and de rigueur. The line-up that Lisa had slaved over comprised of Uncle Wright at the head of the table, to his right Mrs. Olivia, followed by Lane, Mrs. Elinor, Ted, Beth, Frank Sabat, Frannie, Dan, Diane, and Alan, and Lisa at the far end. To her right was Andrew Daynon, followed by Marie, Bill, Denise, Jimmy, Brandi, Jerry, Ayla, Tom, and Sherry.

The service and the food were perfect, thanks in great part to Airen and his minions. There were comments on the quality and the appropriateness of the menu. The elder Ms. Sabat even asked for a recipe for the beef dish. Lisa was in alt.

The only things about the meal that Lane could remember were three bizarre and somewhat disturbing occurrences. A petite bare foot nuzzled his nether region, nearly causing a disastrous choking incident. He glanced quizzically at Ayla; she cocked her head quizzically in reply. Evidently it wasn't Ayla. Realizing what might have happened, he slowly turned his head toward the Daynon daughter, Sherry, who sat catty-corner across from him. She smiled broadly and then lowered her eyes demurely. (...Demurely, my ass... literally, my ass...) His brows had risen a touch before he got himself under control. He very carefully did not look her way again.

Halfway through the entrée, a warm, feminine hand slid across his left thigh and started moving toward his private self. He glanced at the Matriarch and was about to speak to her when, at that moment, a feminine set of fingers walked across his right thigh and started tapping their way toward his much-abused maleness. He snapped his face toward Elinor Sabat. She was batting her elaborately long eyelashes. The elder Mrs. Daynon leaned forward and stared around him at Mrs. Sabat. A détente evidently was met and a pact must have been signed, because Mrs. Sabat sighed, sat back, and removed her hand. "Later," she whispered to him. He bowed barely perceptibly to Mrs. Sabat, and turned toward Mrs. Daynon.

He smiled warmly at the elder Mrs. Daynon. "How can I help you, ma'am?"

She grinned and replied, "There are lots of ways, dear boy, but you needn't worry. I won't embarrass you further. Just wanted to see how you'd react. Thank you for being so sweet... and for your discretion."

"You... You're welcome..." He thought about it a moment "...Um, may I see your dance card?" The elder lady actually blushed and handed over her card. Lane selected "Chandelier," since it was to be played early, so as not to tax the lady later in the evening. "Is that acceptable, ...Olivia?" She glanced at it and nodded. He beamed his sweetest, most-charming smile at her and decided to seek out Mrs. Sabat and sign her card as well. He noted his own card, so he knew when and to whom he was being sacrificed. ( He had to admit Airen had warned him.) Of course he wasn't expecting to be molested by these two, of all the women here tonight.

Again, his "training" from Airen served him well. He knew he was expected to sign at least three dance cards. A little devil told him that with having signed dance cards for Ayla, Lisa, Olivia, and Elinor, he had met his obligations. His honor code kicked him in the shins. "Nah! Better do the right thing and seek out the other ladies."

As the meal was ending, he discovered that it wouldn't be necessary to seek anyone out. The younger folks, including the townies, were making their rounds to fill their cards. By the time he was to escort Lisa to the ballroom, he had signed nine lady's cards at least once. He realized that he was going to be one tired fellow by the end of the night. He would only be totally free for a very few dances. He sought out Ayla to see how she had fared and hopefully to fill out her card with his name. He was too late. Her card was full. She had had the foresight to write his name in for the last two songs and a couple of earlier sets. She had found it difficult even to save herself a couple of free sets.

Ayla pursed her lips as she asked him, "Poor baby. Are they running you ragged already?"

"My own honor code is killing me. I should never have promised myself to try to please everyone. Some of it isn't so onerous, but I see rough weather ahead. I'm damn well trying to be the good boy though, Mommy." He chuckled and shook his head at his own folly.

She nodded and advised, "I'm captive for eight sets other than my few shots at you."

"Shots?"

"Yeah. These women don't want to allow me to spend any time with you. I wouldn't get a shot at you at all, if they could prevent it. If they had their way, I'd be shot."

"You will dance with me for those songs we've already selected?" he asked anxiously. She nodded. He added, "I'll need fortification by then." Smiling softly, he added, "I can't wait... Oh, yeah... Airen and Lisa want me to play while Airen prepares the ballroom. Lisa had advised that preparing the ballroom entailed setting up enough chairs for everyone and ensuring that the refreshment table was overloaded. He queried uneasily, "Would you mind if I played your song for them? And will you come and sit on the bench with me?" He looked desperate.

"Of course I will, Darling."

A young couple had approached them and was standing at a respectful distance while they spoke. It was obvious that they wanted to talk with Ayla and Lane. Lane noticed and nodded them over. "Hi, guys. What's up?"

The young lady smiled an anxious smile and stuck out her hand to Lane for a shake. He complied, and she then kind of jumped over and hugged Ayla. "We've been waiting all evening, hoping to get to meet you." The young man just nodded his head at the older couple, each in turn. The young lady continued, "My name is Marie, and this is my younger brother, Alan." She glanced around at the younger guy. He hid a shy smile by lowering his head. (...Ayla mused, "Recognize that move" ...She glanced quickly at Lane, noticing his forehead covered in blondish locks...)

Ayla stroked Lane's arm and advised, "Lane... and I'm Ayla."

"Oh, we know! We've been hearing about Towers on the Crest ever since we were little kids. Our grandfather was a distant cousin of your Great Grandfather, and always loved visiting here when he could. Since he passed, Mama kind of lost contact with the family, and now that she's gone, most of the younger Towers don't even remember the connection." She tightened her lips into a straight line, and biting her lower lip kind of trailed off, "Well, we don't want to interrupt your evening. We just wanted to say 'hello' and to thank you for inviting us."

Ayla stepped closer and put an arm around the girl. "Honey, you're not bothering us. We're always pleased to make new friends. Consider this an invitation to visit anytime." She searched Marie's face and squeezed her gently. "Since you were invited tonight, someone must know who you are. Lisa made out the invitation list with help from the rest of the family, so you are family as far as I'm concerned."

Lane clasped the young man's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "You guys are more Towers's than I am. If Ayla says you're family, you better believe you're family. Be sure that you're welcome here anytime. If you need anything, anything at all, just ask for Lane. And, please, enjoy yourself tonight." Ayla nodded and beamed a proud smile at Lane. He smiled a gentle smile back down on her. The two young folks grinned and turned away. Holding hands, they walked toward the ballroom, the young lady bending down and whispering to her brother. Lane watched them go before returning to their previous discussion.

"I can't stall any longer. They're waiting for me, sweetheart. I have to go." He gazed longingly into her eyes, and taking her hand, kissed her fingers and turned away. Ayla watched him climb to the little raised platform where the piano sat, and commiserated, "We're asking so much of him." She willed a fervent "I love you" his way.

Seating himself at the grand piano, devastatingly handsome in his tux, Lane looked around at the room. Spying Ayla watching with sweet devotion, he was reassured. Regaining his confidence, he played the first strains of the original piece that Ayla hadn't recognized in the music room: a warm, joyful sonata. He played the pianissimo bridge that rose to that wistful crescendo. Ayla imagined that she heard a sigh emanate from every feminine breast in the hall. He expertly continued with a classical standard and glanced around for Ayla, eager for her to join him on the bench.

As she approached, he stood and took her hand and seated her facing the crowd. A long-stemmed rose appeared in his hand. He presented it to her with a deep bow and his sweetest smile. Lowering her eyes, she sniffed the beautiful fragrance.

Lane seated himself again and turned on the bench to face the magnificent grand. "Airen," he called. Accompany me?" Airen appeared beside Lane and murmured, "Ready, sir!"

Lane played the introductory notes to Eric Clapton's Laila and sang in his breathtaking baritone, "Aaay-la, you've got me on my knees. Ayla, I'm begging, darling, please. Aay-la, won't you ease my weary heart?"  He continued the piano solo on to the instrumental interlude. Airen was rocking back and forth as he had before, with a goofy grin on his face, when from everywhere in the room, the beautiful sounds reverberated through the hall.

The listeners had kind of crowded in closer as the "concert" advanced. As the music died, a burst of enthusiastic applause came from so close, it startled Lane. He blushed and bowed his head to hide behind his hair. Ayla leaned on his arm and whispered, "That was beautiful... Thank you, darling." Lane nodded but still could not look up.

Finally, he stood and bowed to the crowd. "Thank you. Thank you." He spoke in a barely audible tone.

Ayla gave him a quick kiss, just before Uncle Wright came to claim her for the first dance.