“Let’s play it cool,” he whispered, as if I might suddenly start discussing stocks and bonds or, heaven forbid, the weather, at this elite dinner. I nodded, more to reassure him than to agree with his unspoken assumption that I wasn’t up to the task.
As we entered the dining room, I was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. They were impeccably dressed, their smiles a bit too toothy for my liking. It was as if they were performing a well-rehearsed play, one I was not invited to participate in, only observe. After brief introductions, we took our seats. My son had coached me well, reminding me to keep my answers short and my ambitions smaller.
