The penthouse doors opened straight into a dining room lit by soft track lighting over white walls.

Garrett had laid a white linen tablecloth and silver serving dishes on the dark walnut table, with three places set.

Valerie Hayes sat at the far corner, her thin gold ring clinking against a crystal water glass as she straightened a pile of company project folders.

“Dad, you made it,” Garrett said, coming out of the kitchen with a roast chicken on a white oval platter.

He set the heavy platter down on the trivet and pulled out the high-backed leather chair at the head of the table for me.