“Thank you, no,” Ruth says. She wonders why Mrs. Mason even bothers to ask anymore; she can’t remember one time she’s accepted the offer, except for her first time in this office, and then she had said yes to coffee only because Wilson had. That was nearly a year ago, she thinks. They had been called in by the school because Isabelle, in the middle of gym class, had burst into tears while jumping rope, because, she’d finally been able to utter, there just didn’t seem to be a point. Jumping rope one minute, the next minute sobbing so hard the teacher could hardly understand what she was saying. A little nihilist, Wilson had said to Ruth later. Until then, they had never before had to go in to discuss their daughter except for the standard parent-teacher conferences, and Ruth had thought they probably wouldn’t have to again. And maybe, if she’d taken the meeting more seriously, she wouldn’t be here each Monday now. Maybe, maybe, maybe. At every fork in the road, she’s chosen the wrong path, and here she is. She stands up to slide the stack of papers across the desk. “Isabelle’s homework,” she says.

“Mrs. Carter.” Mrs. Mason clears her throat. “I’m not sure how long this school, in good conscience, can continue on in this arrangement.”

Mrs. Mason is clearly expecting a response, but Ruth won’t give her one, not yet. She crosses her arms and waits.

Mrs. Mason clasps her hands before her on the desk. “Isabelle,” she says, “is not technically a student at this school.”

“Oh no?” Ruth says. She feels herself grow hot inside and wills herself to stay calm.

“Quite frankly, no,” Mrs. Mason says.

“Have we not paid her tuition?”

“You have.”

“Hasn’t she done all the work?”

“She has.”

“And hasn’t she scored flawlessly on every test and assignment?”

“This is not a question of Isabelle’s intellectual aptitude, Mrs. Carter.”

“My point,” Ruth says, “is that Isabelle is receiving an education, taught largely by herself to herself. Meanwhile, you are receiving her tuition money as if she were here learning from the teachers and eating the school’s food. I’m not sure I understand the source of your discomfort.”

“Mrs. Carter. Isabelle has not attended school for nearly nine months now.”

“I am aware of that.”

“We allowed her to pass on into the sixth grade—despite the fact that she missed the last months of fifth—with the understanding that she would be physically returning to the school in September.”

“And she will,” Ruth says. “We’re working on it. Believe me.”

“Mrs. Carter, it is now December.”

“It’s barely December,” Ruth says. “She needs time. She needs patience. It’s not easy.”

“I recognize that it’s not easy. But we’ve also been patient to the max. It might be time to make certain adjustments.”