Kennedy walked into the kitchen with her long brown hair in a ponytail, wearing a black dress and looking far too pale. She’d been home from school since the day after Baines died. She’d been quiet since she came home, except when she was being grumpy and sensitive. The only thing that could rouse her usual feisty spirit was the suggestion her dad had killed himself. They agreed the idea of him being so despondent or desperate didn’t fit with what they knew about him those last days. If anything, according to Kennedy, who sometimes acted as her dad’s far-too-young confidante, he’d been upbeat and talking about some big secret deal the company was about to bid on.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kennedy asked.

“Huh?” Gabby realized she was standing there, out of it, instead of cutting the watermelon in front of her. She’d meant to make fruit salad, but there had been so many things she’d meant to do over the last few days and failed. She spent most of her time dazed, trying to remember why she’d walked into a room and if she’d remembered to brush her hair that morning.

“It’s not the first time she didn’t hear me knock.” Liam stepped into the doorway and put an arm around Kennedy. “Hey, kiddo. How are you feeling?”

She grabbed on to him. “Uncle Liam.”

Seeing them together brought a rush of tears to Gabby’s eyes. She fought them back because a weepy mother was an annoying mother. Kennedy had been quite clear about that.

“Are you checking on us?” Gabby asked.

Liam winked at her. “Sort of.”

Kennedy let go of her uncle just long enough to deliver a withering sigh. “Mom.”

Gabby wasn’t sure what she’d done this time, but she could play the name game all day. “Kennedy.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes. “At least let him come inside before you bombard him with questions.”

A dramatic teen. Gabby barely had the bandwidth for that nonsense on a good day, and she hadn’t had one of those in a long time. “I didn’t—”

“Maybe put the knife down first.” Liam glanced at Gabby’s hand. “Just a suggestion.”

“What?” Gabby looked down at the blade clenched in her fist. She dropped it, earning a second sigh from Kennedy. “Sorry.”

“He’ll agree with me,” Kennedy said without moving from Liam’s side.

Gabby knew the context without having it spelled out for her. She chalked that skill up to years of living with a child whose mind raced ahead of her words. But this topic . . . Gabby was not in the mood. “Not now, Kennedy.”

Kennedy turned to her uncle. “She insists I go back to boarding school. The same school she supposedly hated and told Dad and the court I should leave.”