“No.”
“Did somebody cancel?”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“You came because you wanted to?”
“Yes.”
She looked out the window so I wouldn’t see her smile.
I saw it anyway.
Maya studied.
Constantly.
At the library.
At the community center.
Sometimes in Northbridge’s supervised study room with permission from Ms. Bennett.
Sophie occasionally sat nearby doing third-grade homework and asking questions no teenager should be forced to answer.
“Why is zero times anything zero?”
“Because multiplication is repeated addition.”
“But what if zero is lonely?”
“Sophie.”
“What?”
“Numbers don’t have feelings.”
“That seems like an assumption.”
Maya passed her mathematics placement exam at the highest level available.
English was more difficult.
Not because she lacked ability, but because her interrupted attendance had left gaps in assigned literature.
She passed that too.
History came next.
Then science.
Each result brought her closer.
Meanwhile, Arthur and I began examining Claire’s Continuity Fund proposal.
She had done more work than I realized.
There were notes.
Draft budgets.
Meetings with administrators.
Research on why students withdrew from scholarship programs.
She had even outlined a pilot structure.
All unfinished.
But thoughtful.
One evening I sat at the kitchen table reading Claire’s notes while Sophie ate cereal for dinner.
Our chef had gone home.
I had forgotten to arrange anything.
A year earlier, that would have felt like failure.
Sophie called it “breakfast night” and asked if we could do it again.
I found one note from Claire written across a printed spreadsheet.
Daniel will hate this budget.
She had circled a transportation estimate.
Beside it:
Which probably means I’m right.
I laughed aloud.
Sophie looked over.
“Mom again?”
“Your mother had very little respect for my financial judgment.”
“Wasn’t that your job?”
“Exactly.”
Then I turned the page.
A name appeared in Claire’s handwriting.
Elaine Porter.
Northbridge Academy.
Beside it was a question mark.
I knew Elaine Porter.
She was now chair of Northbridge’s board.
I had seen her at fundraisers.
She had personally thanked me for several donations.
Claire’s note read:
E.P. concerned Continuity Fund could “encourage unsuitable family dependence.”
Need another route.
I stared at the sentence.
It was dated three months before Claire died.
I read the surrounding notes.
Claire had apparently proposed the fund informally to Northbridge.
Someone had rejected it before it reached the full board.
I called Arthur.
