I signed in at the front desk, but I was too antsy to sit, so I passed the giant stand that announced Mother’s Day tea was today in honor of yesterday’s holiday and perused the artwork on the bulletin board in the hallway. The district offices shared this building with the preschool, so I searched the pretty, painted rainbows until I found Finley’s.

I snapped a picture with my cell phone. I’d send it to Jackson once he was awake for the night.

The door to my right opened, and an older woman with blond hair ushered a little one into the hallway.

“Why don’t we try giving her a call one more time?” the teacher suggested.

A very familiar pair of Vans kicked at the linoleum floor, but I couldn’t see the child’s face.

“Why bother?” I knew that voice, though.

“Finley?” I walked around the teacher to confirm my guess.

Her head lifted, and I was unprepared for the flare of disappointment in those brown eyes. Ouch. It only lasted a second before she tried to force a shaky smile. “Hi, Morgan. Did Daddy send you?”

The teacher eyed me warily, and I checked her name tag. Mrs. Kozier.

“Hi, Mrs. Kozier, I’m Morgan Bartley. I’m Finley’s next-door neighbor and the new fifth-grade teacher over at the elementary school,” I said so she wouldn’t call the guards on me. Then I sank down on my heels so I was eye level with Finley. “No, honey. I’m here for a meeting. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Mother’s Day tea,” she said softly, her eyes falling away.

Guess that explained the sparkly dress.

“Well, that sounds fun.” I took her little hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Everyone else has their mom,” she whispered, staring at the floor.

My gaze flew up to meet Mrs. Kozier’s, and she shook her head. Claire hadn’t come? I swallowed the ball of rage that was working its way up my throat.

“And you gave her a call?” I asked quietly.

Finley nodded, then sniffed as two fat teardrops fell from her cheeks to the checkered floor.

“Well, how late is she? Maybe she’s just running a little behind, honey.” God, please let that be the case. Do not let Claire break Finley’s little heart.

Finley brought her face up, and I wiped away two more tears. “She’s really late. There’s only two kids left to read their poems.”

My heart ached, but I managed a smile. “Let’s do what your teacher suggested and call her again.”

She lunged at me, and I caught her, keeping careful balance on my heels. “She’s not coming. She never does.”