“You need more than a few days,” Marilyn said. “You need to know what she’s telling the school.”
“The school?” I asked. “What does the kindergarten have to do with this?”
“Nancy’s on the school board advisory committee,” Marilyn said, staring into her tea. “She has lunch with the principal twice a month.”
I stood up and went back into the living room, where the clock on the mantel showed five minutes to one. Carolyn was sleeping deeply now, her small chest rising and falling beneath Marilyn’s patchwork quilt.
I sat on the edge of the corduroy cushion and smoothed Carolyn’s hair away from her forehead.
“Mommy?” she whispered, her eyes opening slightly.
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” I said.
“Do we have to go back to Grandma’s?” she asked, her small fingers tightening on Barnaby’s worn grey ear.
“No,” I said. “We’re staying here tonight. You’re completely safe.”
