Andrea considered her words, then just plunged her hand into her bag. “Here.” She thrust the drawing across the table. “My son came home with this. I found it yesterday in his bag.”

Piper pursed her lips as she stared at the paper. When she didn’t say anything for a few moments, Andrea added, “It’s me.”

“Okay,” Piper said. “Well. This is very concerning.”

“I know,” Andrea said. “Thank you.”

“We have a psychologist on staff. Well—she rotates schools, but I could call her up. This should be addressed.”

“That would be great,” Andrea said, relieved Piper was taking this seriously.

“I also think a family therapist might be useful, too.” Piper crossed and uncrossed her long legs. “There’s no shame. North and I went to a family therapist a while back. It was so hard for him, the divorce, this move. Not all kids are great with change. A therapist can really help a child talk through that. Get to the root of his anger.”

“Absolutely,” Andrea said, but suddenly she felt a prickly sensation on the back of her neck. “Wait. Arthur didn’t draw this. Someone else did.”

Piper blinked at her benignly. “With all due respect, I’m not sure that makes sense. Why would someone else put a drawing of you in your son’s bag? We teach our children to respect people’s property.”

“Someone else would do it because . . .” Andrea’s voice cracked. “I’m not an idiot!”

“Yes, but that doesn’t happen here. This is a safe place.” It was so Pollyannaish that Andrea wanted to laugh, but Piper didn’t give her the time—she kept going. “Look, sometimes kids express what they’re afraid to say through artwork. It’s very common.”

Andrea started to tremble. “Arthur. Didn’t. Draw. This. There’s no way. He’s aware of who I am and why I changed and that I’m happier now, and he supports me.”

“But, I mean, he’s a four-year-old boy.” Piper almost sounded like she was going to laugh. “Four-year-olds aren’t really capable of support, in my experience.”

But Arthur is, Andrea wanted to say. Arthur’s special. “I-It doesn’t even look like his artwork,” she tried, realizing how shrill she sounded.

Piper paused to think. “You found this yesterday? Your files say you’re new to the community. Who’s even had time to form opinions in those few hours the children were in school?”

Andrea’s mouth felt gummy. A teacher saw me, she wanted to say. The parents saw me. But all at once, she felt the same way she had when she and Roger got caught in that hotel room upstate. It felt like everyone was staring at her, realizing who she was—who she’d been. Everyone made assumptions then, too.

Could Arthur have drawn this? The notion terrified her, but maybe this upheaval was more traumatic than he’d let on.