The door opened.
Mara returned as a cluster of girls passed the office outside, their voices bright and overlapping. Rachel caught fragments—someone’s blister, somebody’s algebra test, whether a father waiting outside would stop for bubble tea. She listened for Audrey’s voice even though she knew she would not hear it.
When the hallway quieted, Mara shut the door.
“There’s something else,” she said.
Rachel almost laughed from sheer disbelief. “Of course there is.”
Mara didn’t smile.
Rachel released the chair. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to apologize to yet.”
Mara’s eyes softened, but Rachel looked away before sympathy could undo the brittle control she had built.
“What else?”
Mara went to a cabinet beside the desk.
She unlocked the bottom drawer.
Rachel’s breath slowed.
Mara reached behind a stack of recital programs and took out a plain white envelope. It was the size used for greeting cards, but thicker. No stamp. No address.
