Besides Wren’s surprised squawk, the announcement didn’t generate much of a response. Thomas’s and Linnie’s frowns persisted.

Linnie pulled her pale hair away from her face. “I thought you were set on going to Alfred.”

He shrugged. “Hard to turn down an opportunity like this.”

“Chicago?” Thomas cupped his forehead. “I didn’t even know you applied there.”

Wren half-raised a hand. “Does this have anything to do with Becky Min?”

“Becky who?” Thomas asked.

“Min”—she whisked the air his way without looking at him—“the sculptor. She teaches there.”

Sam nodded. “She said some nice things about my portfolio, asked if she could share it and get back to me.” He set the wooden spoon on the island carefully. “The offer was what she came back with.”

“A full ride.” Wren clucked, a satisfied sound. “Wow.”

“So you arranged this?” Thomas asked with an edge of asperity.

“I’d hardly say I arranged anything. I wanted Becky to see Sam’s work because I’m, you know…” She gave an embarrassed shrug. “Proud of him.”

Linnie straightened out of her crouch, though she kept a hand on Kate’s head. “Thanks, Sam. Thanks for checking with the rest of us before hiring the movers.”

“The movers? But I—I didn’t,” he stammered. Then, scowl restored: “Don’t be an asshole. I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“But you go ahead and freak Kate out with the news? Thought, ‘Hey, why not traumatize her with the prospect?’ What are you—an idiot? Couldn’t you have run it by your dad first? Or me? What about me? Don’t I get a say in where you take my daughter?”

“Two whole lakes.” Kate sniffed again.

“Oh. I see.” He crossed his arms. “Now you want a say.”

She shuffled her daughter behind her, a protective gesture that brought a disgusted grimace to Sam’s face. “Don’t use that tone with me,” she snapped.

“What will you do? Call social services and demand sole custody? Huh. Would they even entertain your call when you obviously don’t know what custody means?” His hand landed on the island as a fist. “It means parenting, not just showing up every so often.”

“Sam,” Thomas said warningly, taking a step forward.

“Here we go again.” Linnie threw her arms out at her sides, grand master–like. “Another episode of Sam Blake’s production of Linnie the Bad Mother.” She hugged herself and glared. “You have no fucking clue what a bad mother looks like.”

He returned the glare. “But I do know what a good mother looks like—not remotely like you!”

Linnie’s angry flush disappeared. Her face emptied of color altogether.

Wren shook her head. “Not cool, Sam.”

Maggie, palms on her cheeks, shuffled closer. “Linnie’s had a rough time of it lately and maybe—”