That appeared to affect Miranda more than anything else.

I remembered Daisy crying beside the pool.

I remembered her saying that everything was her fault.

Then I said the only response that seemed worthwhile.

“The person who most needs your apology is not me,” I said. “It is Daisy.”

Later that week, Paul emailed me. He asked whether it would be acceptable for him to bring Evan over and leave something for Daisy. I agreed.

Daisy was working on a puzzle at the kitchen table when they arrived.

The moment she saw them standing outside, her entire body became still.

Then Miranda lifted a folded yellow beach towel. It was plain except for a white daisy stitched into one corner.

She entered only after I stepped out of the doorway.

“Daisy,” she said, “I was wrong. Your day should have stayed happy. I am sorry I helped ruin part of it.”

Daisy hugged the towel against her chest.

“It was supposed to be my normal day,” she said.

“I know,” Miranda said. “And I am sorry I made it about me.”

Daisy glanced at the towel.

Then she looked at me.

Then back at Miranda.

She accepted the towel because she was polite.

She did not hug Miranda.

I was relieved she did not.

Evan shifted awkwardly and suddenly said, “I told Mom teachers can swim, because they can.”

I laughed before I could stop myself.

Daisy gave him a small smile.

“That was smart,” she told him.

His face immediately brightened.

After they went home, Daisy spread the towel across her bed and carefully flattened each corner.

“Do I have to forgive her?” she asked.

“No.”

“Yes, darling.”

The next week at school, Evan raised his hand during reading group before I had called on anyone.

Then he stood, held the book in both hands, and read an entire page without once hiding his face behind it.

He struggled with one word, corrected himself, and continued.

When he finished, the class applauded, and he smiled proudly. It still amazed me how naturally children carried kindness inside them.

As everyone lined up for lunch, he placed a folded note on my desk.

“It’s from my dad,” he whispered.

Thank you for teaching him courage. He taught us some too.

I placed the note in the top drawer of my desk as a reminder that people were rarely simple.