An hour later, I hurry out of the loft and into the office, timing it perfectly so that I hear Frank’s voice as they enter. Nobody knows I’m here, especially not Morris. I peek through the crack in my door as the key players walk down the hall, toward the conference room. Frank and Evelyn look rough and bedraggled as they enter, as if they’ve spent the month without their son sitting under a leaky drainpipe. The grandmother creeps behind them, her hair cropped close to her head and bright orange like she’s dipped it in paint. She’s bony, spindly old legs in bejeweled jeans, the skin of her face stretched veiny and tight around sharp cheekbones. She must have left Buster with a friend while she attends the meeting—nobody ever brings kids to these things in case the meetings go sideways. I wonder for the hundredth time if Buster’s okay and indeed thriving, but have I to trust Morris’s judgment. I withdraw into my office and listen through the cheap plywood wall to Evelyn’s pleading, her tearful, panicked resolutions. I can hear every word.

“But we’ve done everything you said,” Evelyn sobs. “We’ve done the forms and shit, and the drug tests. Didn’t we, Frank?”

“Yes and they came back clean.” Frank’s voice hides latent rage. “Clean, Mr. Arbuckle. What do you have to say about that?”

“No, that’s great, that’s fantastic.” I can imagine Morris flattening his tie. “And let’s just recap that we all want the same thing here. Granny—how are you getting on?”

“My name is Janeen.” The grandmother’s voice is tight. “And they weren’t on drugs. I could have told you that from the get-go. They’ve fought a very hard fight, Mr. Arbuckle. I think people should be given well-dones for that, not punishments. I love Buster, sir, don’t get me wrong. But he needs to be with his mom and his dad.”

“Yes,” Morris says. “I’m very happy that the tests came back negative, but it’s not quite as simple as that, though. Evelyn, Frank, to be clear, are you saying that you won’t give consent for Buster to be in his grandmother’s care ongoing?”

“No, I fucking won’t,” says Frank. “No offense, Janeen.”

“None taken,” she says.

“I’m afraid it becomes a matter for the court, then,” Morris says. “We’ll let the judge ruminate on the facts.”

Leopards don’t change their spots, my love, I imagine him thinking. I’m so glad I got him on board.

Only once the Floyds have left the building do I emerge from my office. I’m almost to the front door when Morris catches me.

“Alex?” he says. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Nothing. I just … I left my—”