Page 35 of Faultlines

“What does that even mean?”

He picks up his jacket from the back of the chair. “Just don’t wait until you’ve already done something you can’t take back.”

He doesn’t look at me as he walks out.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TECTONIC SHIFT

Claire

“Mom, don’t forget about Friday,” Ellie calls over her shoulder. Her voice already fading as she heads toward the front door. Through the closed window, I hear the crunch of tires on gravel as Mona’s mom pulls into the driveway.

I glance up from my laptop. “Friday?”

She sighs. “The parent lunch for the drama club.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You promised.”

“Have a little faith. It’s on my calendar.”

The week barrels past in a haze of meetings and deadlines. By Friday morning, a new email appears at the top of my screen.

To: Claire Bennett

From: Denise Mitchell

Subject: Board Review Meeting

Claire,

Following Heidi’s recent hospitalization, several members of the Board of Directors would like to meet with you next Wednesday to discuss the incident, our current safety protocols, and any additional measures needed to support the residents and staff. This is intended as a collaborative review, but given the seriousness of the situation, the board believes an in-person discussion is appropriate. Please be prepared to provide an overview of the events leading up to the incident, the actions taken by Juniper House, and any recommendations you have moving forward.

Thank you,

Denise Mitchell

Board Chair

I read the email twice before letting out a slow breath.

It’s professional. Reasonable, even. But between the lines, I hear the question they aren’t asking. How did this happen under your watch? I close my eyes for a brief pause, pressing my fingers against my temples. I try to remind myself that Heidi survived and that’s what matters. Still, what if I’d noticed sooner?

A soft knock interrupts my thoughts.

Marisol leans against the doorframe. “You look like you just got bad news.”

“You could say that. Come read this,” I say as I point toward my computer screen.

She scans the email before looking back at me. “They’re covering themselves.”

“I know.”

“And they’re making sure we’re doing everything we can.”

“I know,” I repeat, though the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen.