No, but someone else he didn't expect is

Seth rapped his knuckles against the solid oak door, the sound echoing faintly down the quiet suburban street. From inside came a series of heavy, deliberate thuds—footsteps approaching at a plodding pace, like someone dragging their heels across hardwood floors. The latch clicked, and the door swung inward to reveal a woman hunched slightly in the frame, her face creased with deep lines that pulled tight around her mouth and eyes. She peered at him through thick, wire-rimmed spectacles perched low on her nose, squinting hard as if the evening light hurt her vision, her grey hair tied back in a no-nonsense bun streaked with white.

"You are?" she demanded, her voice cracking with that sharp, irritable edge older folks sometimes wield like a weapon, lips pursing thin.

"Seth," he answered, shifting his weight under her scrutiny.

Her scowl deepened, brows furrowing until they nearly met, and she tilted her head back to inspect him from head to toe, nostrils flaring slightly. "You're Evelyn's date for tonight?" The words came out laced with disbelief, her tone dipping into outright dismay, as though the idea offended her on principle. She stepped aside anyway, waving him in with a curt flick of her wrist, her movements automatic, like habit overrode her judgment.

Seth crossed the threshold into a warmly lit foyer, the air thick with the savory aroma of roasting garlic and herbs mingling with something richer—maybe beef simmering in a sauce, the kind that promised a hearty meal bubbling away in the kitchen nearby. The scent wrapped around him, comforting and homey, a stark contrast to the woman's prickly reception.

"Yes," he confirmed, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

She shuffled ahead, muttering under her breath just loud enough for him to catch. "Young enough to be her grandson, if she had any grandkids running around." Her shoulders hunched forward as she led him toward what looked like a cozy living room, floral-patterned curtains drawn against the darkening sky outside.

"I'm sorry, miss," Seth said, trailing off deliberately, his eyes flicking to her expectantly.

That stopped her short; she turned, adjusting her spectacles with knobby fingers. "Iva—her sister. She rang me up not long ago, asking if I'd whip up dinner for this date of hers." Iva's lips twisted again, not quite a smile, her gaze lingering on him with fresh suspicion, as if piecing together why her sibling would entertain someone half her age.

"Oh," Seth replied, the realization hitting him square—the remote had reshaped Evelyn's looks, sure, but her years stayed put. To folks like Iva, who knew her well, a college kid showing up for dinner must look downright ridiculous, a mismatch that screamed scandal or midlife crisis.

The weight of the remote pressed against his thigh in his pocket, solid and insistent, almost like it pulsed with suggestion, urging him to pull it out and tweak this awkward snag before it rolls downhill even further.