Laurel picked up the key and closed her hand around it.
“I should have checked.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes rose sharply, perhaps expecting me to soften the truth.
I did not.
She looked down again.
“I leave Dash at seven,” she said. “Mrs. Alvarez arrives ten minutes later. His preschool opens at eight. I call the school from the hotel during my first break.”
“Did you call today?”
“My supervisor moved my break because two people called in sick. By the time I got ten minutes, the preschool office had closed for the afternoon.”
“Do they have your current number?”
“My phone only works on Wi-Fi. I owe the carrier.”
I leaned back.
Every explanation led to another thin rope, and every rope was fraying.
“How many hours are you working?”
“Usually ten. Sometimes twelve.”
“At one job?”
“Housekeeping until three. Laundry after that.”
“At the same hotel?”
She nodded.
“And you collect Dash after dark?”
“Mrs. Alvarez brings him back to the bench. Dash likes the ducks, and she lives across the street. I meet him there.”
I thought of the boy tapping the empty place beside him.
My mom told me to stay here and keep her spot safe.
He had not understood the arrangement. He had understood the promise.
“Why didn’t Mrs. Alvarez call the hotel when she couldn’t come?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could she be ill?”
Laurel’s face tightened.
“She has a heart condition.”
“Then we should find out.”
She glanced toward the stairs.
“I can’t leave Dash.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll go.”
“Why?”
The question was direct, almost suspicious.
I had been asking myself the same thing since morning.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted.
She studied me carefully.
