Milly’s eyes narrowed. Kelly would be unhappy, too, if she were spoken about as if she were a zoo exhibit.

Mrs. Kowalick straightened the pencil on her desk blotter. “I’ve got other students the same age in my class, Mrs. Whiteley, and their grades aren’t slipping. Milly’s are.”

The slow ticks peeled away from the clock on the wall as Mrs. Kowalick laced thick fingers. “It’s also her demeanor. I know girls can be on a roller coaster of emotion, but she seems more . . . flat than the others. That raised a red flag.”

The news was a hammer blow to Kelly’s maternal instinct. The depth of their disconnection was revealed when someone outside their family knew more about her daughter than she did.

“Mr. and Mrs. Whiteley, I don’t mean to pry, but the welfare of one of my best students is at stake. Is everything okay at home?”

Daniel drummed his fingers harder on the back of Milly’s chair. “Like most families, we’re under pressure, but we’re working through it.”

Kelly could feel Milly’s eyes roll from two seats away.

Mrs. Kowalick’s fierce eye contact locked on to her. “I’m more than happy to recommend the family to the school counselor—”

The electrical jolt of Daniel’s cackle cut across the offer of help and bounced back from the whiteboard at the front of the classroom. “I’m not sure we need to go down that path.”

Kelly’s disappointment burned, fueled by the depth and speed of Daniel’s reaction. Seeing someone was exactly what they needed to do.

Daniel smoothed his hands on his jeans. “Let’s get down to the details. If Milly maintains her D average, will she lose her scholarship?”

Kelly flushed with a growing anger. D average? Daniel had seen Milly’s report and not told her about it?

Milly stood up with a huff and stormed from the classroom, thumbing in her earbuds as she stomped into the corridor.

Mrs. Kowalick’s gaze followed Milly from the classroom. “Yes, she will. I think you know she needs to maintain a B average.”

Daniel stood, offering his hand. “I’ll fix it. Thanks for your time.” He hustled out of the room.

Kelly sat reeling, punch-drunk at the last sixty seconds. She offered a weak smile as Mrs. Kowalick tapped her pencil in time with the ticking of the clock. She smiled back at Kelly, a closed smile that didn’t include her eyes. “I will be keeping a close eye on Milly’s grades over the next few weeks. I strongly suggest you have a word with her at home.”

Nothing was worse than a lecture.

*  *  *

Kelly inspected the blooming red rose—the centerpiece of her platter of canapés—which fifteen minutes earlier had been a plain, simple tomato. She wished she could cut the unspoken tension with as deft a hand as she used to cater.