We take out our paints, and she goes to work on the ten-inch canvas made by lightning while I relax with my back against another tree. Twenty minutes later she steps back, and there’s a woman in her painting with blonde hair and a sunny smile.

My throat feels tight. “Your mom?”

A quick nod.

“She would be so proud of you. The way you’re handling schoolwork right now.”

“You think so? Uncle Beau was mad at me for not doing it.”

“You are doing it now. It counts just as much on rocks as it does on paper.”

She gives me a small, unexpected grin before scampering away through the forest.

Paige goes to sleep at eight, so I have a full hour after I put her down to wait. I only make it for thirty minutes before I head to his study. No matter how much he claims not to care about her education, he does care.

No matter how grumpy he pretends to be, he’ll be happy about this.

I knock on the door to his study at eight thirty-six p.m.

“Enter.”

I bound into the study, full of energy and hope for the future. And stop abruptly when I see his expression. His eyes are full of mystery and menace. His lips are pressed to a flat line. Even now, even looking angry, he looks handsome.

It’s a cruel world. Unethical, as he would say, to make someone so mean look so beautiful.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Sit down.”

I’m too full of energy to sit down. “Paige has made the most exciting progress. She’s doing her schoolwork. She’s doing it outside on rocks, with paint, but that doesn’t matter. It still counts. I already heard back from the teacher and—”

“I saw that. Excellent work. I must say, I didn’t expect that from you.”

The way he says from you makes me stiffen. As if there’s something wrong with me. “I thought you’d be pleased about this. You said she had to pass first grade. Now she will.”

“Sit down, please.”

The word please makes me frown. He still sounds angry, but at least I can sit down and find out why. “Did something happen?”

“I suppose you could say that. I got a report back from a private security firm. Turns out the background check that Bassett Agency did was not quite comprehensive.”

I frown. “I don’t have any… felonies or anything.”

“No.” A faint smile. “No misdemeanors. Not even a single detention at school.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a bad thing?”

“It’s not, of course. Every good uncle wishes that his niece is raised by such a paragon in society.”

I narrow my eyes and say nothing. This is not a good talk.