I turned the corner into the dim hallway next to the china cabinet.

The tall wooden pantry door was closed tight, its heavy brass latch dropped into the iron catch on the frame.

Caroline stepped into the narrow hallway between the kitchen and the pantry, blocking the doorway with a full glass of Pinot Grigio in her right hand.

“Don’t turn an ordinary discipline decision into some big scene, Clara,” Caroline said.

Her sharp voice sliced through the quiet house like a ruler snapping against a desk.

“Where is my daughter, Caroline?” I said.