Their house was so over-the-top clean that Amelia and Fritz had nothing to tidy. In fact, they had the opposite problem. Their house did not reveal the presence of a child, almost as if there was some shame attached to the fact that a child lived there and it might have been preferable if she didn’t. Her belongings were all confined to her bedroom. There was very little evidence of Natalie in the downstairs living areas. Interestingly, Amelia must have recognized this, because she disappeared and, a few minutes later, appeared with a number of Natalie’s toys, books, dolls, and art supplies.

Natalie spotted her mother with an armful of her belongings. “What are you doing?”

Amelia didn’t register embarrassment. “I want Lucia to know that you have great toys and that your little sister would too.”

“Oh.” Natalie looked relatively satisfied with the answer.

Amelia placed a stack of Natalie’s dog-eared books on the glass coffee table next to her large, glossy art books. Then, in an apparently haphazard manner, she placed some slutty-looking Barbie dolls gone wrong, a Spirograph set, and jewelry-making paraphernalia in various strategic locations throughout the downstairs living area. One would have assumed that Natalie had been playing and neglected to put the items away. I was impressed with the execution.

Amelia built a fire in the library, and then she and Fritz went upstairs to change while Natalie and I concluded our game of Scrabble.

I thought that Natalie had mixed feelings when she witnessed her mother’s level of desperation for a baby. And I couldn’t blame her. I felt a kinship with Natalie. It was clear she craved her parents’ attention and rarely got enough of their time or energy. Another child would presumably mean even less time for Natalie.

“It’s a special day,” I said. Even though I had good letters, I traded them in, because I wanted Natalie to win the game.

“It’s not definite, though. The baby sister.” She frowned and rearranged her letters on her Scrabble rack.

“Of course it’s not.” Long, slow, deep breaths.

Itzhak rested his head on Natalie’s lap. She studied her letters.

“Your parents want you to be involved in the decision too,” I said. Natalie was an extremely perceptive child and able to identify deceit. But I was telling her the version of circumstances that ought to be true. So it was true, in a sense.

Natalie cocked her head. “I don’t know.”

“I believe they do. And they want you to feel ownership over the whole process.” I brushed some stray hairs away from her face. “You want Lucia to know everything about your family. Because the worst of all possible outcomes would be that your mom gets her hopes up and then Lucia backs out at the last minute.”

She rearranged her letters again.