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But it was too late. The bus was pulling away.

He slammed the door shut. “When does school start? That wasn’t on her damn list. ”

Betsy stared at him. “You don’t even know?”

“Eat. Then go brush your teeth. We’re leaving in two minutes. ”

“I’m not going to first period,” Betsy said. “Ooooh no I’m not. Zoe’s in that class. And Sienna. When they see my hair—”

“You’re going to school. I have a ferry to catch. ” Michael looked at the wall clock and grimaced. He was going to miss his ferry, which meant he was going to miss his first meeting of the day.

Betsy crossed her arms. “I’m on a hunger strike. ”

“Fine,” he snapped. “Be hungry. ” He grabbed the dishes and put them in the sink, cereal and milk and all. In the mudroom, he found Lulu’s pink rubber boots and picked them up.

In the kitchen, Betsy hadn’t moved. She sat in the chair, looking mutinous, with her chin jutted out and her eyes narrowed.

“I’m not going in late. Everyone will stare at me,” she said.

“Who do you think you are, Madonna? A bad hair day doesn’t stop school. Get your backpack. ”

“No. ”

He looked at her. “Get your backpack and get ready, Betsy, or I’ll walk you in to first period, holding your hand. ”

She opened her mouth in horror, then clamped it shut. “Whatever. I’m going. ”

He looked through the kitchen to the family room, where Lulu lay curled on the couch, with her blanket and a stuffed orca, watching the video of Jolene reading her a story. “Lulu, come let me put your boots on you. Lulu. Come here. ”

“She’s wearing the headband,” Betsy said primly.

Michael marched into the family room and picked Lulu up. At the movement, the headband slid off her head.

“I’m inbisible!” she screamed.

He carried her screaming and squealing out to the car and strapped her into her car seat. Betsy, silent and glowering, climbed in beside her.

Lulu burst into tears. “I want my mommy!”

“Yeah,” Michael said, starting the car. “Don’t we all?”

* * *

The first week without Jolene almost drove Michael into the ground. He’d had no idea how much there was to do around the house and with the kids. If his mother hadn’t had such boundless energy, he would have had to hire full-time help. She’d been a lifesaver, no doubt about it. Jolene had enrolled Lulu in after-preschool day care, which lasted until four o’clock. That meant his mother could work until almost four, and then pick Lulu up from day care, and get to Michael’s house in time to meet Betsy so that she never came home to an empty house—one of Jolene’s strictest rules. By the time Michael got home at six, his mom had usually started dinner and done some laundry. She was shouldering a big part of his burden.

Even so, he wasn’t doing well. Betsy was a whirling dervish; he never seemed to be able to anticipate her reaction to the simplest of things. She could burst into tears over nothing and then be mad as a hornet five seconds later. And Lulu wasn’t much easier to handle. She had taken to wearing her ratty gray cat ears almost all the time. She swore she was going to stay “inbisible” until Jolene came home, and when Michael ignored the game and picked her up anyway, she screamed like a banshee and sobbed that she missed her mommy.

And then there was the Keller case, which was showing all the signs of becoming a disaster. Keith still hadn’t spoken to anyone, not even his court-appointed psychiatrist. Michael had waived his client’s right to a speedy trial, but at the moment competency to stand trial was a legitimate concern.

His intercom buzzed. “Michael? Mr. Keller is here to see you. ”

“Send him in. ” Michael closed up the file and opened a pad of paper.

Edward Keller walked into the office slowly, looking nervous. He was a big man with close-shaved black hair and a bushy black Tom Selleck mustache. He was pale and sweaty-looking in his plaid shirt and Wrangler jeans.

Michael stood up, extended his hand. “Hello, Ed. I’m Michael. It’s nice to finally meet you. ”

Ed shook his hand. “My wife wouldn’t come. She tried … she just can’t talk about it yet. Emily was like a daughter to us. It’s hard…”