Part 4
Claire turned off the burner before she answered. The eggs would keep. She rinsed her hands, pulled a towel from its hook, and sat against the kitchen cabinets.
Sam watched every movement. Ben had retreated to the far side of the island.
“Ms. Cole’s job is to find out whether children are safe,” Claire said. “People have asked her to check on you. A visit doesn’t mean you’re being moved.”
“You can’t promise what she’ll do,” Lucas said.
“No. I can tell you what we’ll do. We’ll answer her questions, and you won’t be kept outside while the grown-ups decide what you’re allowed to know.”
Daniel put the envelope on the counter. He sat beside Claire, awkwardly folding his long legs.
“And I’ll be here,” he said. “For the visit and afterward.”
Ben edged toward him. Daniel opened an arm; Sam squeezed in on the other side, leaving damp fingerprints on his shirt. Lucas stayed by the stool.
“What should we get ready?” Daniel asked.
“Whatever you’d normally get ready for Friday.”
He looked at her over Sam’s head.
“Don’t coach them,” she added. “Don’t spend two days telling them which feelings are allowed while she’s here.”
A short, tired laugh escaped him. “You’re asking me to leave the embarrassing parts in.”
“Yes.”
Lucas picked at a spot on the stool. “What if she sees us mess up?”
“Then she’ll also see what happens next,” Claire said.
On Friday, Daniel heard the investigator’s car tires on the wet gravel and had to resist checking the kitchen one more time. A housekeeper had arranged fresh branches in the foyer vase before he could tell her not to fuss. Their scent reminded him sharply of every occasion on which the house had been prepared for somebody important.
Judith Cole wore low shoes and a dark blue jacket. She shook his hand, introduced herself to Claire, and explained the day’s plan without looking around at the ceiling.
From the kitchen, Lucas called, “We’re in here.”
Judith followed his voice.
The boys had been packing oatmeal-raisin cookies into paper cartons for Daniel’s construction crew. Ben was struggling to make a bow. Sam had tied one so tightly it was bending the lid. Lucas printed messages on cards with his tongue caught between his teeth.
Judith asked where the cookies were going.
“To Dad’s building,” Sam said.
“People work there,” Ben added. “We’re going to see them.”
“We asked if you could come, too,” Lucas said to the investigator, watching for her reaction.
Daniel had discussed the outing with her beforehand. She had agreed to observe it and drive separately. Claire had argued against canceling simply because somebody would be watching.
At the site, workers were putting up apartments for families at several income levels. The morning smelled of damp lumber and fresh concrete. Daniel checked the boys’ small hard hats twice, then walked them along the fenced visitor route with Claire and Judith.
They stayed well clear of the active work. Crew members came to meet them at the trailer, accepting cookies with the solemn courtesy the boys’ delivery seemed to require.
Lucas demanded to know which man had done the wiring. Ben asked where the bedrooms would be. Sam offered a card to Frank, a concrete finisher with pale dust caught in the creases of his hands.
Frank crouched to read it.
“Your mom used to keep us supplied with cold lemonade when it got hot,” he told Sam. “Never forgot the cups, either. Half of us would’ve tried to drink from the pitcher.”
Sam turned to Daniel. “She knew these people?”
“She knew a lot of them.” Daniel looked across the unfinished courtyard. “She wanted to know who was making the homes. And who would get to live in them.”
Frank tucked the card into his shirt pocket before accepting the cookies.
Back at the house, Judith stayed through lunch and reading practice. She asked the boys about their rooms, school, and what they did when they were upset. Daniel answered questions about his schedule. Claire described the routines they had begun and the ones that still failed on difficult days.
After lunch, Ben helped wipe dust from the piano. He lifted one edge of the wedding photograph to get the cloth beneath it.
Lucas’s chair scraped backward and hit the wall.
“Put her back!”
Ben jerked away. “I’m cleaning!”
“You moved her!”
Daniel stood too quickly, irritation rising before he caught it. Claire’s palm lifted a fraction.
“Lucas, bring the chair forward,” she said. “Then tell us.”
His face was scarlet. He dragged the chair several inches, breathing through his mouth.
Daniel crouched beside him.
“You thought the picture was going away again.”
Lucas stared at Ben, who still held the cloth.
“It wasn’t,” Ben whispered.
“I know,” Daniel said. “But we haven’t made that clear enough.” He looked at all three boys. “From now on, anyone who needs to move one of Mom’s pictures checks with you three first. Me included.”
“What about dusting?” Lucas asked.
“We ask. It takes ten seconds.”
Judith put her pen down. “I can see how that would help.”
Lucas studied her, then went to straighten the frame. This time he asked Ben to hold the cloth while he did it.
The afternoon light had begun to fade when Judith requested a few minutes with the adults in the study. Daniel left the door partly open. Outside, the boys conducted an unconvincing search for a missing puzzle piece.
Judith arranged her notes on the desk.
“I’m not finding a neglected household,” she said. “I am finding children who have needed better support, and decisions about their grief that shouldn’t have been delegated.”
Daniel nodded. “I understand.”
“I want family grief counseling in place, and a plan with the school. There will be follow-up while we see how those supports are working. Based on today, I don’t have grounds to seek removal.”
He rested both hands on the arms of his chair and let out a breath.
Judith drew one more sheet from her folder.
“Before I finish, we have to clarify a report concerning their mother’s death.”
Claire sat straighter beside him.
Judith slid the page across. A highlighted sentence said the boys had allegedly blamed their father for causing Rachel’s death.
At the open door, Lucas said, “That’s not what we meant…”
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