"Morning," I said, sliding into my chair.
My mother, Grace, lowered her coffee cup, her eyes scanning my face with maternal concern. "You're up early, sweetheart. You barely touched your dinner last night. Are you... are you too nervous about today?"
I picked up my knife and fork, slicing into the sunny-side-up egg on my plate. The yolk ran over the toast.
"No, Mom," I said, my voice light and crisp. "I'm not nervous. I'm excited."
Grace exchanged a look with my father. "Maybe Richard should go with you," she suggested. "Just to have some support in the room."
"Absolutely not," I said, taking a sip of orange juice. "Dad has a fishing trip planned. He needs to go catch some trout, not sit in a stuffy boardroom listening to me talk about profit margins. I’ve got this."
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(Ric
