Todd, though… he was twitchy. Smiling, but visibly stiff as he tried to be a gracious host. I thought about pulling him aside to talk it out but decided it could wait. Eventually, I just chalked it up to hosting jitters. But I should’ve known.
An anxious man at a party | Source: Midjourney
At exactly 3:18 p.m., the doorbell rang, and everything changed.
Todd’s entire posture shifted. He stiffened like a board, set down his drink, and avoided my eyes.
“I’ll get it,” I said, already moving.
I opened the door to a woman in a prim navy coat with pearl buttons, flanked by two enormous suitcases that looked like they’d survived the Titanic.
Deborah.
Todd’s mother.
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