There were shadows beneath his eyes. His smile, usually quick and polished, did not appear. The confident MBA graduate standing before me looked strangely weary.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked.
He blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you don’t look happy.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“I just graduated from business school. I’m thrilled.”
“No, you’re performing thrilled.”
His eyes flickered.
I knew that look. I had worn it at family holidays.
Before he could answer, a voice called from the corridor entrance.
“Sarah.”
My body recognized my mother’s voice before my mind did.
Derek turned.
My parents stood together beneath a red directional sign pointing toward guest services. My father looked older than he had in my memory, his hair thinner, his shoulders slightly rounded. My mother held her purse with both hands in front of her, knuckles pale against the leather strap.
