Ronnie looked up at Lane, realizing she hadn’t answered his question about work. “I was just running around,” she said. “Work’s been crazy.”

“Yeah, mine, too,” Lane agreed.

Ronnie glanced at him quizzically. What could be crazy about teaching kindergarten at Silver Swans? And then, almost involuntarily, she blurted, “Do people roam the school hallways? Is that allowed?”

“Huh?” Lane paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. “What, at Silver Swans?”

“Yeah. During the day. Are there lots of people . . . mothers, maybe . . . moving about?” Her heart was suddenly pounding.

“Well, parents aren’t allowed in after a certain time. You have to check in through the office.” Lane looked confused. “Why?”

“No reason.” Ronnie pretended to be really interested in the shape of a pita chip. “Have there been a lot of incidents of . . . oh, I don’t know, families being bullied at the school?”

Lane looked startled. “Bullied?” Ronnie shrugged. “Honey, Silver Swans would never, ever tolerate that. You really think I’d send Esme to a place where bullying was allowed?”

Ronnie shook her head. Of course Lane wouldn’t.

“And you heard Piper,” Lane said. “She strives for equality and acceptance. We’re all in this together. That’s what she pitched to that documentary! Which is amazing, huh?” Seemingly noticing some change in Ronnie’s posture, he added, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just . . . Piper,” Ronnie said. “I’m not sure about her.” Piper had seemed like every other mom in the group—sort of like the queen bee of the moms, in fact. Ronnie also hadn’t liked how nervous Lane seemed around her. If she were being honest, she’d always felt slightly annoyed by his hero worship of Piper—she’d heard Lane speak about her plenty over the past year. And now that she’d met Piper properly, she wasn’t impressed.

And oh God, that documentary series. The last thing Ronnie needed was to be on camera. It wasn’t just about someone spotting her as a Topless Maids girl, either. It was about Jerrod spotting her. About her truth going public.

Lane sat back. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure about Piper?”

“I . . . I got this vibe at that breakfast. The way she looked at me. She seemed condescending.”

There were two vertical creases between Lane’s eyes. “I think you’re overreacting.”

He sounded defensive. Maybe this was the wrong road to go down. “I felt”—how to put this without putting it all out there?—“I felt like she could maybe tell I was from somewhere not as nice as here. Maybe all the parents could tell.”

Lane’s eyes softened. “Oh, honey.” He shifted closer to her, clapping his hand over hers. “No. That’s not true.”

“But . . .” Ronnie felt like a fraud for twisting sympathy out of Lane, but there was no turning back now.