“He goes to private,” Piper answered breezily, placing the phone facedown on her desk. “St. Sebastian. It’s a few towns over. And let me tell you, I’m thrilled school has started again.” When she looked back up at Andrea, her eyebrows knit together. “Has anyone told you that you bear a striking resemblance to Robert Vandermeer? He’s this major real estate magnate in New York City. My ex-husband used to admire him, though actually, I’ve heard he’s a real bigoted prick.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that, too,” Andrea mumbled quietly. Was this some sort of gambit to knock her off guard? Did Piper know? She needed to change the subject, now. “So, um, look, I wanted to ask you—”

“I can’t thank you enough for being part of our family,” Piper interrupted. “We are going to set the foundation for your child’s life!”

“Great.” Andrea tried to smile. “I’m so glad.”

“And . . . Arthur.” Piper had picked up a clipboard of notes now and seemed to spy Arthur’s details. “He seems to be fitting right in! His teacher says that on his first day, he really connected with Johnny Fineberg and King Russell.” She looked up. “Do you know Jane Russell? King’s mom?”

Andrea shook her head. “I haven’t really met—”

“You should connect with her. She and her husband live in that gorgeous house at the top of the cliffs—you know the one. It looks like something Frank Lloyd Wright designed.”

“I love that house,” Andrea mused, knowing exactly which one Piper meant. The house was the jewel in the crown of Raisin Beach.

“The Russells have tons of beautiful houses all around the world,” Piper said, sounding envious. “You should absolutely say hi to Jane—she’s a good person to know. And very, you know . . .” She waved her hand to think of the word. “Accepting.”

“Okay.” Andrea felt off-balance. She just needed to say what she came here for. “But . . . actually, that brings something up. Does anyone at this school have an issue with . . . with me? Being . . . trans, I mean. Are some people less accepting?”

Piper looked affronted. “We celebrate everyone here. It’s practically our school motto.”

“Okay, philosophically, yes. But what about the teachers? The children? Other parents? I understand some of this community is religious. Is it worth maybe having a meeting about . . . inclusion?” Andrea tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Staging a meeting certainly wouldn’t be keeping a low profile, but maybe they could do it in such a way that she wouldn’t be front and center. And also—and this suddenly irked her—wasn’t it the school’s job to nurture this? “If people can’t deal, well, I can handle that on a case-by-case basis. But I don’t want this trickling down to my son.”

“Has your son said people have treated him poorly?” Piper looked confused.