“They’re really looking forward to meeting you,” he assured me.
His reassurance did little to calm me.
I kept wondering what he had already told them about me.
The dinner took place at Jacob’s childhood home.
He had always described it fondly, and when we arrived, I could see why. The house was warm, traditional, and filled with signs of long family history.
As we approached the front door, Jacob changed.
His usual confidence faded, replaced by the nervous eagerness of a son trying to please his parents.
His mother, Nancy, greeted us politely.
She was poised and observant, with a smile that felt cordial but evaluative.
Her eyes moved over me carefully before she spoke.
Soon after the introductions, she made a suggestion that stunned me.
“Why don’t you freshen up before dinner? We have some time.”
Her tone was pleasant.
The meaning was not.
The phrase echoed Jacob’s earlier comments almost perfectly.
