Stella was quiet through most of it, her knee bouncing slightly under the desk.
“Here’s what I can tell you,” Lindsey said when they’d finished. “For Stella to enroll as a full-time student, we’d need a few things. Official transcripts from her Australian school. Proof of residency—that’s straightforward if she’s living with you. And documentation of parental authority.”
“Which means...” Tyler started.
“Her mother’s consent. Either a signed letter authorizing the enrollment and extended guardianship, or formal custody modification through the courts.” Lindsey set down her pen. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”
“It all comes back to Fiona,” Stella said flatly.
“It all comes back to Fiona,” Lindsey agreed.
The words hung there. Tyler glanced at Stella, but she was staring at the motivational poster behind Lindsey’s desk. EVERY JOURNEY BEGINS WITH A SINGLE STEP.
“What if she says no?” Stella asked.
“Then it gets more complicated. There are legal options, but they take time, money, and they’re not guaranteed.” Lindsey leaned back in her chair. “Can I be honest with you both?”
“Please,” Tyler said.
“The paperwork matters. The legal stuff matters. But what matters most is what Stella wants—and whether her mother can be brought around tosupporting it.” She picked up her coffee mug, turning it in her hands. “I’ve seen a lot of custody situations in this job. The ones that work out are the ones where the adults find a way to put the kid first. Even when it’s hard. Even when there’s history.”
Tyler thought about Fiona. About all the years of careful negotiations, scheduled visits, birthdays spent on opposite sides of the world. About Stella showing up this summer with walls so high he’d spent weeks just trying to find a door.
“The funny thing is, Mum’s the one who sent me here. Her idea. Wanted time with just David and the twins.” Stella poked at her ice cream. “I didn’t even want to come.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t want to leave. And she’s going to hate that.”
Lindsey nodded and smiled. “Sounds complicated.”
“What if I talk to her and she still says no?” Stella asked. Her voice was smaller now.
“Then we figure out the next step. One thing at a time.” Lindsey pulled a folder from her desk drawer. “This is our international transfer checklist. Everything we’d need if you do enroll. Take it home, look it over. And when you’re ready to move forward — whatever that looks like—you know where to find me.”
Tyler took the folder. It was thin—just a few pages—but it felt heavier than it should.
“Thank you,” he said. “For taking the time.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” Lindsey stood and walked them to the door. She looked at Tyler. “For what it’s worth—you showing up, doing the research, trying to understand what your daughter needs? That’s a parent’s plan. That counts for something.”
A parent’s plan. He’d been fumbling through this summer, never quite sure if he was doing any of it right.
“I’ll probably have more questions,” he said.
“I’ll be here.” She handed him a business card. “Direct line. Call anytime.”
They walked back through the halls in silence. Past the trophy cases, past the classroom where Tyler had climbed out the window, past his old locker with the jammed door.
“So,” Stella said as they pushed through the main entrance into the sunshine. “Things did not go well here?”
“Not exactly.”
“But you graduated.”
“Out of pure spite.” Tyler squinted at the parking lot. “Walked across that stage just to prove everybody wrong.”
“And now you’re back here. Trying to enroll your daughter.”
