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Ben hadn’t felt this nervous since his first solo run in flight school. As he knocked on the door of Room 121 at the West Wind Hotel, his phone buzzed, but he reached into his pocket to turn it off. He was about to see his mother and sister for the first time in twelve years. Everything else could wait.
The door opened—and there she was. His mother, the same but different. Same expressive gray-blue eyes, both vulnerable and hopeful. Same tentative smile. The years and all their emotional toll showed in the form of new wrinkles and a streak of white through her sandy hair. Even though she was thinner than before, the flesh around her neck and face was looser. She wore a blue cardigan over a loose tunic and wide-legged harem pants.
The outfit made him nervous. It reminded him of the “b
