The Good Mom by Cathryn Parry

here,” Gram murmured. They were outside the conference room where Gram was scheduled to meet with the board.
    â€œI’ll wait outside,” he told her. “Call me when you’re finished.”
    â€œYes, Aidan.” Gram smiled at a tall, thin man who’d stood to greet them. “Dr. Pingree, I’d like you meet my grandson, Dr. Aidan Lowe. Aidan, this is Dr. Pingree, the headmaster.”
    Aidan greeted the headmaster and shook his hand.
    â€œI understand you’ve moved back to Boston,” Dr. Pingree said.
    â€œFor a short time, yes.”
    â€œThank you for coming back to see us. We love to see returning alumni. Especially those as accomplished as you are, Dr. Lowe.”
    â€œThank you,” Aidan said politely.
    â€œSince I have a few minutes before the board meeting starts, would you indulge me and allow me to show you our newest improvements in the facilities? It will take just a few minutes. So often we reach out for donation appeals, but we don’t usually get the chance to show some of the capital improvements the funds make.”
    Gram was quite generous with St. Bart’s. But she wasn’t going on the short tour, she said. Aidan was well aware she had an angle with him today. He knew how to say no to people very well.
    Maybe he should.
    â€œSure,” he said to the good doctor. “Why not?” He left his grandmother and headed back to the dining hall by Dr. Pingree’s side.
    The boys quieted as Dr. Pingree walked through their midst. These would be the first-year boys. Most were clustered together, wearing their new suit jackets, self-conscious, maybe a little afraid with back-to-a-new-school jitters. Aidan guessed that most came from very wealthy, very busy parents who had high standards for their children. He felt compassion for them. He remembered the feeling, the heavy burden of expectations. The fear of not measuring up. The realization of the investment.
    The table that the headmaster was leading him toward was the one that Aidan had observed earlier, as he had walked with his grandmother. The table that seemed to be centered on one boy who kept the attention of the others. The happy-go-lucky kid.
    Blond hair. Slight. Skinny, as if he’d just had a massive growth spurt to which the rest of his body hadn’t caught up yet.
    Aidan paused. “Who is that boy?”
    â€œThat’s Brandon,” the headmaster said.
    Brandon. Aidan wasn’t at all surprised. He’d thought he’d recognized the kid from the photo in his mom’s workstation.
    Brandon saw them conferring. When the headmaster gestured for him to come over, he got up from the table without hesitation.
    â€œBrandon, this is Dr. Lowe,” the headmaster said. “Dr. Lowe, I’d like to introduce you to one of our first-year students, Brandon LaValley.”
    â€œHi, Dr. Lowe.” Brandon confidently stuck out his hand. But his voice cracked, and his cheeks flushed.
    Aidan gave the boy an easy grin. Took his outstretched hand and shook it. “Hi, Brandon. Pleased to meet you.”
    â€œDr. Lowe is one of our graduates,” Dr. Pingree said. “He’s currently an orthopedic surgeon at Wellness Hospital.”
    Aidan didn’t correct him. Technically, Aidan supposed, he still had his position on staff there. Really, he was just grateful that the headmaster hadn’t mentioned his posting with Doctor’s Aid. Or his relationship to Vivian Sharpe. Or his past affiliation with the New England Captains organization.
    Aidan was just about to make an excuse to leave when he caught Brandon’s expression. The boy stared at him with big eyes and shaggy hair and skinny arms. Aidan remembered the awkwardness of that age, and he felt some compassion.
    â€œAre you going to help tutor me?” Brandon asked anxiously.
    â€œWhy? Do you need a tutor?” Aidan asked, taken aback.
    â€œUm...” Brandon glanced hesitantly at Dr.