Kayla arrived ten minutes early, wanting to make a good impression. The Reynolds’ house sat on a quiet street lined with maple trees, the kind of neighborhood where everything looked orderly and well-kept. She smoothed her sweater, took one steadying breath, and rang the doorbell.
Mark answered almost instantly. His relief was obvious, shoulders relaxing, tired smile widening as if her presence alone solved a problem he’d been carrying. “Kayla? Thank you so much for coming. Really.” He stepped aside quickly, ushering her in with genuine warmth.