“I know she’s eligible. You told me at midnight.”
“Then you know we need the money.”
“We’ll find the money.”
“Where?” His voice rose for the first time. “Where, Di? We’ve got a second mortgage already. We’ve got eleven thousand dollars on the credit cards from the last round. I can’t take three months off. Where are we going to find it?”
Diane stood there in the middle of the principal’s office. Her face crumpled.
“Not from her,” she said, very low. She was looking at me. “Not from them, Graham. Anybody but them.”
The room went silent.
Not from them.
I looked at Diane. Then at Graham, with his hand still on my son’s neck.
Then at my son, who had the same shade of brown hair as Harper Quinn. The same exact shade. So close that the woman at Crowned for Courage had said it was the easiest color match she’d ever made.
