“Everything okay?” she asked, noticing my expression.

“Family,” I said shortly.

She nodded sympathetically.

Jennifer had worked with me for three years. She’d fielded enough calls from Derek to know the dynamic.

The meeting with the secretary went well. The International Museum Directors Summit would bring fifty of the world’s most influential museum leaders to Washington in January. As the host institution director, I’d be coordinating the entire event, a significant responsibility and a massive opportunity to showcase American cultural leadership.

“The State Department is very interested in this,” Secretary Williams said, leaning back in his chair. “They see it as soft diplomacy. We’ll have directors from the Louvre, the British Museum, the Hermitage, the National Palace Museum in Taiwan. Congresswoman Chen’s office has already reached out asking to attend the opening reception.”

My head snapped up.

“Rebecca Chen?”

“Yes. She chairs the House Subcommittee on Arts and Culture. Wants to meet the international delegates, discuss cultural exchange programs.” He smiled. “I understand she’s engaged to your brother. Small world.”

“Very small,” I said carefully.

“I’ll have my office coordinate with hers. The reception is January 14th. Mark your calendar. You’ll be giving remarks and introducing the keynote speaker.”

I nodded, my mind already racing.

January 14th. Three weeks away.

I didn’t tell Derek about the summit. I didn’t tell him that his fiancée would be touring the museum in an official capacity, meeting with me specifically.

Some small, petty part of me wanted to see how this would unfold naturally.

The larger part of me was just tired. Tired of explaining myself. Tired of being dismissed by my own family.

Our parents had always favored Derek, the golden child, the charmer, the one who’d graduated from Georgetown Law and now worked at a prestigious firm in DC. When I chose to pursue museum studies and cultural anthropology, Mom had sighed and said, “Well, at least you’ll have a nice quiet job.”

A nice quiet job.

As if running one of the world’s great museums was equivalent to filing paperwork in a back office.

Derek had proposed to Rebecca on her election night in November. She’d won her congressional race by eighteen points, flipping a traditionally red district. She was young, thirty-six, ambitious, whip-smart, and already being mentioned as a rising star in the party.

I’d met her exactly once at a family dinner Derek had organized in October. She’d been friendly but distracted, already in campaign mode.

When Derek introduced me, he’d said, “This is my sister Sarah. She works at the Natural History Museum.”

“Oh, how nice,” Rebecca had said, already turning to answer a call from her campaign manager. “Museums are so important.”