He did not smile.
“Linda’s still setting up,” he said. “The house isn’t ready. Can you wait outside? Just fifteen minutes.”
I blinked. “Outside?”
“It’s just 15 minutes.”
I could hear music, kids running, someone laughing.
I said, “Nick, I came from the airport.”
“I know. We just want it to be ready.”
So I waited.
Then he gave me that quick look busy people give when they want you to cooperate without explaining.
“Please, Mom. Fifteen minutes.”
And then he closed the door.
I stood there staring at it.
So I waited.
Five minutes.
I was not early.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
Nobody came out.
For illustration purposes only
I sat on my suitcase; my legs ached. I could hear little feet running inside, laughter, music growing louder.
I looked at the door and realized something awful.
I was not early.
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