“There’s water in that fridge, and feel free to eat anything in that basket,” the woman said. Then she handed Kate a lapel microphone and the corresponding pack that attached to her waistband. “Tallulah said you’d know how to work this?”

“It’s been a while, but I think I can still manage. I’ll show Marah. Thanks.”

“Great. I’ll come and get you when it’s time. As you know, we’re live today, but don’t let that worry you. Just be yourself.”

And then she was gone.

This was really happening. It meant so much to her, this chance to reconnect with her daughter.

An instant later there was a knock on the door.

“We’re ready for you, Kathleen,” the woman said. “Marah, stay here. We’ll come for you in a minute.”

Kate headed for the door.

“Mom!” Marah said sharply, as if she’d just remembered something important. “I need to tell you something.”

Kate looked back, smiling. “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll be great.” Then she followed the woman down the busy corridor. Through the walls she could hear applause, even a smattering of laughter.

At the edge of the stage, the woman paused. “When you hear your name, you’ll walk out.”

Breathe.

Suck in your stomach. Stand up straight.

She heard Tully say, “And now I’d like you all to meet my good friend Kathleen Ryan . . .”

Kate stumbled around the corner and found herself standing beneath the bright glare of the stage lights. It was so disorienting that it took her a second to process her surroundings.

There was Tully, standing center stage, smiling at her.

Behind her was Dr. Tillman, the psychiatrist who specialized in family counseling.

Tully swept over to her side, took her arm. Beneath the swell of applause, she said, “We’re live, Katie, so just roll with it.”

Kate glanced over at the screen behind them. There was a huge image of two women shouting at each other. Then she looked at the audience.

Johnny and her parents were in the front row.

Tully faced them. “Today we’re talking about overprotective mothers and the teenage daughters who hate them. Our goal is to get a dialogue going, to break up the logjam of communication that comes with adolescence and get these two talking again.”

Kate actually felt the blood drain from her face. “What?”

Behind her, Dr. Tillman moved from his place in the shadows to a chair onstage. “Some mothers, especially the controlling, domineering type, actually damage their children’s fragile psyches without ever really seeing what they’re doing. Children can be like flowers, trying to blossom in too small a space. They need to break out, make their own mistakes. We don’t help them by wrapping them in rules and rigid expectations and pretending that we can keep them safe.”

The full impact of what was happening hit Kate.