“There won’t be a board meeting for you,” Richard said.

He turned toward the front door, his coat draped over his arm.

Eleanor followed him, her eyes fixed on the floor, avoiding any contact with either of us.

“Richard, wait,” Derek pleaded, following them into the foyer.

I sat at the table and watched them go.

Through the large windows, the snow was falling faster now, thick white flakes sticking to the glass.

I heard the heavy oak front door open, letting in a rush of freezing winter air that reached all the way to the dining room.

The door closed with a firm, heavy click.

The house was quiet again, save for the hum of the heater and the muffled sounds from the kitchen.

A moment later, Derek walked back into the dining room.

He did not look like the man who had spent the last ten years telling me I was nothing without him.

His tie was slightly crooked, and his hair was messy where he had run his fingers through it.