I took one look inside and shied away, making my way across the lobby and down the hallway where signs pointed me toward the piano bar. A Holiday Inn ...ith a piano bar. Go figure.With diminishing hope, I peeked inside and was relieved to find the room mostly empty. At least by the standards of the previous two bars, anyway. Only four people sat at the bar: a middle-aged couple, a man about my father's age three stools down, and to the right of him, a solidly built young man in his mid to late. I peeked over the bottom edge driver’s side window, and I whispered the unfolding drama in a low, excited voice. It was my son who opened the door, his tall, lanky shadow stretching across the front walk. The expression on his face told me he was too concerned with the pizza in the box, and maybe his paused video game, to notice or question why mom and dad’s car was back in the driveway, while we were nowhere in sight. Forking over the cash and grabbing the warm pizza with a grin, he. More

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