Chapter 8: The Banquet

"He said it would be easier on everybody," Wynn went on, almost whispering. "That we'd all be close, and I wouldn't have to do it alone."

"Do what alone?"

She looked at the car.

"Raise him."

Milo knocked on the window, and she flinched.

"I have to go," she said. "Please don't come to the banquet. Please."

"I'll be there."

She picked up the plate of lemon bars as if she'd forgotten what it was for, set it down again and walked to her car.

Joanne watched her drive off.

"That is not a woman who knew everything," she said.

"No."

"That is also not a woman who gets a pass."

"No."

On Friday night, the Bluewater banquet hall smelled like chlorine and chicken.

Round tables filled the room, each with a blue paper centerpiece and a stack of team programs.

Parents in good shirts held their phones up to take pictures of their kids in team jackets.

A big white screen hung behind the stage.

I had spent Thursday night making a slideshow on a flash drive.

One hundred and eight slides, in order.

Keith took it from my hand at the door.

"This is it?"

"All of them."

"They'll run it behind him when I cue the tech," he said. "I told the tech it was a surprise for the head coach."

"It is."

He glanced at the green dress I had borrowed from Joanne.