“Oh, no. These guys, they fume, they demand. A bad temper is part of their style. He just caught me before I’d had coffee and so I wasn’t quite ready for him.” She offered a stronger smile, a shrug.

“Then let me buy you some coffee and we’ll head out to the orphanage.”

She nodded. There was a swank-looking lounge at the other end of the lobby, currently serving coffee, espresso, and hot tea instead of cocktails. I ordered three coffees.

Why didn’t I believe Danielle? A finger of paranoia ran along my spine. I shouldn’t tell you all this, but here we are and I am. I thought you should know it. I thought the paperwork was honestly the hardest part about this. But now I think something worse is happening, and I don’t understand it. All we wanted now was our son. Russia picked him for us. Why did it feel like something was closing in on me? I thought this was going to be a day of joy. I’m meeting my son—we’re meeting our son.

I told myself to put all this worry aside and enjoy today. It would be a great day.

Through the glass windows I saw the dark-haired man with the silver tie. He was on the street, talking on a phone. He frowned. He gestured. His face wasn’t so impassive anymore. Then he turned off the phone, tucked it into his pocket. A Mercedes SUV pulled up by the curb. A huge young man got out from the passenger side, opened the door, and the man with the silver tie got in the back. They drove off.

An adoption official? I thought. In that kind of car? With a hulking bodyguard? Then I remembered I had a suitcase of “gifts” (otherwise known as bribes). I knew this was how Russia operated. But it unsettled me. That man didn’t look like someone you wanted to have as an enemy.

While I waited for the coffee orders, I scanned the lobby for her. The warning woman. No. This was ridiculous. This woman, this stranger, wasn’t going to ruin this glorious day for me, for Kyle, for our soon-to-be Grant. I took a deep breath. I got myself centered. I had to be Iris Grant Pollitt, supermom, songwriter, wife, woman who feared nothing and no one. I went to the entrance and looked out on the cold, gray day.

“Russia, here I come,” I thought to myself. “I’m going to take a prize from you.”

25

Iris