A Child's Wish

Barnett had the woman sufficiently boxed in. There would be no help from her.

Assuming they needed help.

Assuming Mark had any intention of supporting Meredith Foster.

Or was Mrs. Barnett just bitter and slightly off the mark and her husband was to be pitied and taken seriously? If Mark had to put money on it, he’d probably choose the latter scenario.

“So if Barnett continues to have access to Tommy, how did Ms. Foster’s statement have any bearing on the boy’s welfare?”

“It put Larry on notice.”

Eyes narrowed, he watched her carefully for signs of dishonesty—shifting eyes, nervous twitches, lack of focus. There were none. She made that statement as if it were a given, as if Barnett had a reason to be on notice.

“Is Larry Barnett abusing his son?”

“Not that I know of.”

Mark tossed down his pen, frustrated with the entire mess. No one knew anything and yet a student had just been yanked from school, Mark’s reputation had been smeared in the local paper and Meredith Foster could lose her job.

“Do you believe he is?”

“I hope not.”

“But there’s a possibility.”

She stood. “I really must go,” she said, laying the clipboard on the edge of his desk. “Tommy won’t want to wait for me to pick him up after his first day in a new school.”

Mark rose from his chair and walked her to the door.

“Did Barnett ever hit you, Ruth?” His use of her first name was calculated, but he justified his attempted manipulation with the thought that it was for a good cause.

“No, of course not. Now I really have to leave.”

“Will you give me a call if anything changes?”

She nodded and was gone.

“MORE WINE?”

Meredith hesitated as her friend held the half-empty bottle of expensive Riesling over her glass. “I shouldn’t,” she said. In the morning, she’d have a roomful of feisty eight-year-olds to face. “But okay.”

Susan topped up her own glass next. “Thanks for coming, by the way. I’d already made the pasta this morning, and you know how I am about eating it fresh.”

“Hey, I’m the one who benefited here,” Meredith said, relaxing for the first time that day. “I can’t believe you aren’t upset with Mark for leaving you in the lurch at the last minute.”

Susan shrugged. “It was up to Kelsey, and based on our track record chances were good that she’d say no.”

“But you made the pasta anyway.”

“There’s always hope.” Susan grinned.

Toying with her butter knife, Meredith said, “You feel more conflicted than nonchalant here, woman.”

“And it’s eerie how you see right through me.”

“I’ve known you a long time.”

“About as long as I’ve known you, and you can be falling apart inside but I won’t know it until it actually shows on the outside.”