“Yes! Mrs. Christensen! It’s so nice to meet you!” We gave each other a hug.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you too, dear! Please, call me Ellen. This is Ryan’s father, Bill.”

I instinctively reached out my hand to shake his but he pulled me in for an awkward hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, sir!”

“It’s nice to finally meet you too, young lady!” Bill said with a huge grin on his face.

Ryan’s father was tall, just like Ryan, but with another thirty or so pounds of weight. I could see bits of his father in Ryan too. Bill’s face was rounder and clean-shaven and he wore rectangular wire-rimmed glasses. Ryan inherited his hair color from his father, although Bill’s hair had tinges of gray mingled in it. I pictured Ryan taking on his father’s looks one day.

“So this must be the Infiniti my son keeps telling me about,” Bill said from the passenger seat. I smiled as he ran his fingers over the dash.

“Ryan likes to drive it, and to be honest, I rather enjoy it when he does. He’s a great driver,” I stated proudly.

“We have his car in our garage back home. It was the first thing he bought when he cashed in his first big paycheck. Come to think of it, that car is the only thing he bought. I’m going to have to remind him that he can afford his own garage now. Then my car doesn’t have to sit in the driveway.”

“You will do no such thing, Bill,” Ellen reprimanded. “At least we know that we can get him to come home every once and a while, even if it is to visit his car.”

“Our son tells us that you’ve never seen any of his movies. Is that really true?” Bill pressed.

“Yes sir, it’s true.” I nodded my head. “I’ve never seen him act before. He wants us to come to the set tomorrow, so I suppose I’ll get to see him perform for the first time then.”

Ellen laughed out loud. “I believe you’re the only woman on the planet who hasn’t seen his movies.”

“To be honest, I think it’s better that way,” I justified.

Ryan’s ringtone began to play on my cell phone. I knew he was going to be on edge until his parents were safely in my care. His behaviors were becoming so predictable.

I drove down the coast to a nice restaurant that jutted out over the ocean. We had a lovely view of the Atlantic from our window table.

Ryan’s parents were very nice and friendly towards me. I had expected to be grilled with questions, but Ryan had apparently filled them in with a lot of details so our conversation was more validation of the things they already knew.

I told them about attending Brown University and my career goals at that time, and my current involvements with the vineyards and the pub. His parents asked a lot of questions about the vineyard businesses and the details of co-ownership, and I was happy to tell them what I knew.

His father was keen on knowing as much as he could about diversifying his holdings and investment opportunities other than the standard retirement plans. We had a long conversation just on that subject alone.

It was apparent throughout the conversation that his father was worried about Ryan’s money and making sure it was properly invested. I told them that I felt Ryan was looking to expand into other areas of opportunity but I didn’t go into specifics. I certainly didn’t want them to know how willing he was to dump his money into refurbishing the kitchen in my pub.

The last thing I wanted was for his parents to think I was only after their famous son’s money. I tried to inadvertently express how I was doing financially so they would be at ease knowing that I’m a smart businesswoman all on my own and I have my own money in the bank.

They told me stories about Ryan and how he liked to draw pictures of houses when he was younger. His parents always thought that he’d become an architect one day. Even when he was a child, everything he drew or built had to be symmetrical. Block buildings, tinker toys, Lego’s - everything was always designed evenly.

Ellen recalled how Ryan’s modeling career started - she took Ryan to get his picture taken when he was three years old and the photographer suggested that she take him to one of the local modeling agencies. Soon after that, Ryan was pictured in national clothing store fliers modeling children’s clothing. His pictures were even used in a few parenting magazines. She promised to show them to me one day. I’m sure that would embarrass Ryan to no end.

It was late in his high school years when he became active in the drama club. His mother said he was a natural on the stage. I loved listening to her stories - to hear the pride in her voice when she spoke of him.

They also spoke a lot about their other son, Nick, and his wife, Janelle, and how they met at work and fell madly in love. They had been married three years now and had their first daughter, Sarah, almost ten months ago. His parents were very easy to talk to, and I had the same feeling talking to them as I did when I first met Ryan.

Just as Ryan had stated, his father snatched up the restaurant bill even before the waitress set it on the table. I held out my hand, for I really did want to treat them to lunch, but his father waived for me to put my hand down and strung a few no, no, no’s along as he reached for his wallet. I dropped it as to not offend his father.

I took them for a brief drive around the area, showing them the only two spots where I knew Ryan had filmed. I spared them the details about the two women who were arrested storming onto the movie set when they filmed on the beach. I figured they too had enough to worry about.

I drove down my street, showing them the front of my building while also secretly assessing how many fans and paparazzi were staked out. I drove down the alley, despite having paparazzi lurking there as well. Ryan’s father quickly unloaded their luggage from my trunk.

I was surprised to see that his father knew the little Italian photographer. “Jimmy? Jimmy Pop? Are you still chasing my son?” Bill asked.

“Oh, Mr. Christensen, oi!” Jimmy said in his thick accent, tossing his cigarette butt into the alley. “Mrs. Christensen! You look so lovely! Oh, my, my! What a blessed day! How are you?”

“We’re well! We’re here visiting our son. You guys aren’t bothering him too much, are you?” Bill teased.

“Oh, no, no! Well, you know, it’s a job. I miss when your boy works in nice, warm places. This cold weather, it’s no good for my hands. Oh the pain,” Jimmy said, rubbing his arthritic fingers.

While we stood there talking to Jimmy, other photographers took our picture. His parents didn’t seem to be phased by it.