“Adoption makes the most sense for us, but it’s taking so long. If it doesn’t happen soon, we’ll have to go out of state for a surrogate.” Amelia pushed her hair behind her ears.

I sipped my coffee again, mainly to distract from any telling signs of anxiety in my face or voice. “You’re considering surrogacy, then?”

“I’m considering everything.”

“What about a friend or a relative?”

“There isn’t anyone, not someone I could ask.” She pushed her hair behind her ears again.

I hesitated, looking for the right words.

“I’d do anything to help you, Amelia. You know that, right?”

“I know.” She smiled at me.

“You’re such an amazing mother to Natalie. If you want another child, you should be able to have another child. It shouldn’t be so hard.”

“Thank you, Delta.”

The sun was low in the sky, shining through the glass doors into the great room. I took another sip of my coffee. “It doesn’t seem fair. Pregnancy and childbirth were easy for me,” I said. “So easy.”

“You were lucky,” she said, then paused at the sound of quick footsteps coming down the stairs.

Natalie appeared with a piece of paper in her hand. “Mom, I need you to sign this form for my field trip.” Natalie lingered in the room after her mother had signed the paper. Amelia turned to sift through some mail on the kitchen counter. My window of opportunity had closed.

I was scheduled to shoot a birthday party the following Saturday at noon on the Upper West Side. The clients had a five-year-old daughter, Hazel. From one phone conversation with Hazel’s mother, Brooke, I visualized her as a brunette with sun-damaged skin, an athletic build, and overdeveloped calf muscles. It was a game I often played with myself. After a phone conversation, I would create images in my head of the client and the family members. The majority of the time, my images would prove to be accurate.

The night before, I’d purposefully left my cardigan sweater at the Straubs’ house so that I would have a reason to go by there after Hazel’s party and spend a few minutes in their house. Five minutes in the Straubs’ home made a difference to me. The ache behind my sternum diminished quickly in their presence.

In freezing rain and sleet, I took a car from my apartment to the Upper West Side. Clients always covered my travel expenses, as I usually carried heavy equipment—a tripod and a ball head, external flash units, light stands, reflectors and diffusers, and my camera case with lenses, filters, and an exposure meter.