“And who’s this?” Easton’s eyes widened when his father asked the question and then turned his head so he was fully facing me. When Easton turned around, his expression was completely blank, like he barely could recall who I was. I had yet to see that expression on his face. I was sure that for him to do his job he’d probably learned to master not showing his emotions, but he’d never done that with me. From the first moment I’d met him I’d always been able to see exactly how he felt about me. Now, with his eyes seeming to go right through me, it was like a gut punch.

Before he spoke, he moved so that there was some distance between us. He extended a hand toward me and kept his eyes on his parents. “This is Dr. Denis, he’s one of the new faculty at the Cornell economics department. He’s also best friends with Ernesto, OuNYe’s owner.” He blankly glanced at me for a second before speaking. “These are my parents, Anne and Easton Archer Jr.”

I shook their hands, still not sure what was going on with Easton. I knew things with his parents were strained, but he seemed to have morphed into a different person. It was like he could barely stand to look at me.

I was about to excuse myself when Anne spoke, her tone pleasant while her eyes did a very thorough assessment of me. “Dr. Denis, how are you finding our little town? Must be a shift from urban life.” Her tone was pleasant enough, but urban life? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

My back almost went up at that, but years in the Ivy League meant I’d had many a run-in with Anne Archer types, nice ladies who had a very interesting idea of how a black man got to be in places where they didn’t “usually belong.” Easton, on the other hand, seemed to get tenser with every word exchanged.

“It’s Patrice, and Ithaca has been fine so far, ma’am. Thank you for asking.” Again I kept my tone polite. Odette had not raised me to be anything other than painfully polite to women like Anne. Not a word, not a look, not a hair out of place.

Easton Archer Jr. spoke next, and he didn’t bother to pretend he was doing anything other than sizing me up. “Where are you from, Dr. Denis?”

I wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to hear, but I was not in the mood to make people comfortable today. “I’m Haitian, sir. I came to the US with my mother when I was young.” I turned my eyes to see what Easton was doing and he looked like he was going to be sick.

Did he think I was going to embarrass him or something?