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    Five or ten minutes later I heard my daughter’s voice, and I stopped what I was doing to watch her sing and dance around the stage. When her piece was over, the gentleman beside me said, “That may be one of the best illustrations of a mother’s love I’ve ever seen.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I don’t have to ask if she’s your daughter, I could see it in your eyes. Only a mother looks at a child in that manner.”
    “And you are?”
    “How barbaric of me. I am Abbott Hamilton.”
    I don’t like giving out my last name to strangers, but all he’d have to do would be to look at a program to get our last name. So I nodded politely and said, “Kirsten O’Shea. Do you have a child in the play?”
    “Heavens, no.” His smile looked both relieved and sad. “I am a benefactor of the theater and I enjoy watching the plays come to life.” His speech was proper, with each word enunciated perfectly, but not annoyingly so.
    “So this is like a hobby for you? I’m here quite a bit and I don’t recall seeing you around.”
    “My time is generally spent in the adult theater, but I occasionally come to the children’s theater to watch. Your daughter is in Cats as well, is she not?”
    “Yes.”
    “You and her father must be very proud.”
    He was fishing for information I didn’t want to give. I’d adopted Lauren as a single mother, so there was a biological father out there somewhere, but no legal father. Plus, my daughter doesn’t like for me to talk about her story with strangers.
    I was about to say, “Yes, I’m very proud of her,” when Mister Hamilton gracefully moved us beyond my few seconds of silence to say, “I’m sorry to make presumptions. If her father is no longer around and I’ve brought you grief, I am sorry.”
    I smiled. “No need to apologize, there’s no grief. I’m very proud of my daughter, but my pride isn’t so much for her grace or her beauty, or even her intelligence — my pride is because she’s a kind and generous soul who cares about the feelings of others. The rest is just a bonus.”
    Something about him set my off radar and made me cautious, and yet he seemed to project vibes intended to make me feel safe in his presence. I checked my shields almost constantly, but no one tried to probe them.
    “What a wise mother you are,” he said, his face the perfect mixture of polite and friendly. “I am intrigued. I’ll be at the final showing of Cats Saturday night, would you like to join me in my box?”
    The last weekend was always a big kick for the kids, as they got to perform in the big theater instead of the children’s theater. Since he was inviting me to sit in one of the boxes only available to generous benefactors, he must’ve been telling the truth about that part, at least. If he’d asked me to do anything else I’d have said no; however, this seemed safe enough. My parents and Xiaolan would be in the audience in regular seats, Lauren would be on stage, and I’d be in a big fancy box watching the show. I’d ask what could go wrong , but I’ve learned not to.
    “That is most kind of you Mr. Hamilton,” I told him, for some reason feeling the need to copy his almost-formal speech. “I would be honored to join you.”
    “You’ll probably arrive early to bring your daughter and get her ready. If I see you before the ushers arrive I’ll come get you, otherwise just tell them your name and they will bring you to me, Miss Kirsten O’Shea.”
    Lauren skipped up the aisle to us, two-stepped down the row in front of us, put her knees in the seat in front of me, and looped her arms on the back of the seat before saying, “I’m hungry.”
    Laughing, I said, “Of course you are, you barely picked at your dinner. I have a banana in my purse but you can’t eat it in here. Are they done with you, or did they just give you five minutes?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Five minutes. Do you have some water?”
    I handed her a stainless sport bottle and told her