Open Eyes (Open Skies)
“She wished that she had noticed it in the motel earlier, instead of here and now, at Open Skies Ranch eighteen minutes before her interview. Dammit. She took a deep breath, tried to stay focused. Don’t let this small thing upset you, Vicky. Come on now.
But it was upsetting to have buttons and threads hanging, mostly because she was already in a full-blown panic. Her chronic punctuality and worry about navigating unknown back roads had got her to Open Skies almost ninety minutes early, and she had sat in the restaurant, nursing a coffee and watching in horror as one interviewee after another walked past the floor-to-ceiling windows. They were all so glossy and elegant and put-together. The women had perfect hair and certainly no loose buttons on their crisply-ironed blouses or runs in their sleek nylons. The men had tailored suits and shiny shoes and carried what were undoubtedly top-of-the-line laptops in smart briefcases.
And they were just all so young.
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