“Sit down, Valerie,” he said, gesturing to a plush armchair without looking up from his paper tablet.

“We need to talk about your son’s future.”

I stayed by the heavy glass door, my leather handbag hanging squarely over my forearm.

“Toby is recovering from orthopedic surgery,” I said.

“His condition is stable.”

Charles adjusted his left gold cufflink, set his pen on the desk, and leaned back with the warm, practiced smile that had won over generations of city council members.

“I spoke with the chief administrator at St.