Eileen Caldwell sat in the Renaissance bar of the Grand Pittsburgh Hotel and stared at the myriad liquor bottles lined up against the leaded glass mirror. Old money.

The place reeked of old money.

She glanced around at her fellow Friday night revelers and thought again.

The bar and hotel might scream old money, situated as they were along the north side of town, but the establishment's clientele suggested anything but. Brash and beautiful, the crowd was as young as it was plentiful.

She leaned across the bar and signaled to Henry, the long-time bartender. "Are you sure he's usually here by now?"

Eileen's younger brother, Jack, had asked her to meet him here tonight. Over two hours ago, to be precise.

Henry nodded as he slid another glass of club soda in front of her. "By now he'd be well into his second scotch." He gave a shrug and a wink, his dark eyes twinkling. "Maybe he got a better offer."

Eileen rolled her eyes at the man she'd once chatted with every Friday night. Back in the days before her older brother Robert had gone missing. Back in the days when she and Jack and Robert had sat here every Friday night without fail, commiserating about work and politics and life in general.

Then everything had changed.

Eileen had run away after Robert's disappearance. She could admit that now.

But she'd finally come back. She'd come home. She'd been hoping the call from Jack had been a sign he'd chosen to forgive her for deserting him, for leaving him alone with the media and the memories.

She stole a glance at the empty barstool by her side, the one she kept defending from predatory moves by twenty-something corporate types.

Her heart sank.

Maybe Jack wasn't going to show