The door opened a few minutes later.
For a moment, I barely recognized him.
The broad-shouldered linebacker was gone. In his place stood a thinner man with hollowed cheeks and exhaustion etched into every line of his face. His suit did not quite fit, as though it had been bought during better years. His hands were rough and marked by years of physical labor.
He did not recognize me.
“Thank you for seeing me, Ms. Hart,” he said, sitting stiffly.
I studied him carefully.
“Chemistry class was a long time ago,” I said calmly.
His brow furrowed.
Then his eyes sharpened.
Recognition struck him like a physical blow. The color drained from his face.
“Evelyn?” he whispered.
I did not smile.
He stood abruptly. “I did not realize. I am sorry. I will find another lender.”
“Sit down.”
My voice was firm and measured.
He obeyed.
