Christine expects Dean to have told his mother what she looked like. She also expected his description to be a person much different than herself. Gone are the tight curls pinned back from her face and the frilly dresses in pastel colors. Now she wears her hair severely parted down the middle and back in a bun. The dress she wears is a simple navy blue with black buttons and plain black trimming. Anyone who had known her before would say she's lost the bloom of youth. Her hands are a little coarser, and her eyes carry a sadness and seriousness they once lacked. But as she stands there with a traveling bag in her hands, she offers a gentle smile, her eyes radiating kindness.

"Yes, hello. I'm Christine Chapel." It's a name she hasn't used since she left home, so her father couldn't track her down. She picked a new last name and pretended to be a widow so she would be allowed to tend to the soldiers. And now that she works for one of the front line doctors in his practice, it's been easier to keep up the ruse. Signing her real name on that letter had been the first time she'd used it in years.

"Did I precede my letter accepting your invitation, ma'am?"