“Are you threatening me?” he asked, just as Bonnie appeared in the doorway, still wearing the rubber gloves and holding a tray with two mugs and a Tupperware sugar and cream set.

“Coffee?” she asked, with the bright intonation of a flight attendant. “I thought you might like some.”

“Isn’t that thoughtful? My wife is a treasure,” said Coach Buck.

His saccharine tone was just about making Lucy sick to her stomach. In fact, there was something about this whole meeting that was making her uncomfortable. She was beginning to feel trapped, like Hansel and Gretel in the witch’s house. Maybe it was the small room, maybe it was the sense of falseness that was beginning to unsettle her.

“None for me, thanks. I’m probably overreacting,” she said, getting to her feet. “Making a mountain out of a molehill.”

Coach Buck shook his head and rolled his chair closer to her, blocking the doorway. “Not at all. You’re concerned about your daughter and it’s very understandable.”

“Not just my daughter,” said Lucy, unable to stop the flow of words. “All the cheerleaders and the players, too. They’re at a very vulnerable age and this sort of thing is very damaging. It’s important they develop healthy self-images, that they learn to treat others with respect.” Feeling trapped, her eyes darted all around the room, looking for a way out. Spotting a photo of a bearded young man in a BU sweatshirt, she seized on it. “Is this you?” she asked, leaning over for a better look. As she’d hoped, Buck got out of his chair and joined her by the bookcase.

“It’s no secret I went to BU,” he said.

“My dad did, too,” lied Lucy. “On the GI Bill. Class of forty-nine. What year were you?”

“Seventy-five.”

“Turbulent times on college campuses,” she said. “You look as if you might’ve been a bit rebellious yourself.”

“The beard was as far as it went,” he said quickly. “And it didn’t last long. Too itchy. I shaved it off right after this picture was taken.”

Lucy was thinking that the young man in the photo looked a lot like the fugitive getaway car driver from the bank robbery in which Mimi’s father was killed, but dismissed the thought. Men with beards tended to look alike.

“I stayed clear of all that political stuff,” continued the coach. “I focused on sports. Never read the paper.”

“Right.” Lucy smiled. “Let’s work on this together,” she said, trying another tack. “Maybe we can get the parents together with you and the athletic director and try to figure out a solution. Not a big public meeting but just a quiet little get-together, completely off the record. I’m sure we can come up with something if we all put our heads together.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” he said, extending his hand.