I inhaled, breathing low into my core. “Like she finds out something she didn’t know and then she decides, oh, she really wants to choose a different family. I know a few families who went through that. At the last minute, the birth mother—that’s what Lucia is—she can change her mind whenever she wants to. Even after the baby is born.”

She looked up from her letters. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Natalie finally placed her letters: C-O-N-T-R-O-L next to the word L-E-D that was already on the board, to spell CONTROLLED. She smiled ever so slightly.

“Control is seven letters,” I said. “Controlled is fifty extra points, beyond the points on the tiles.”

She was clearly pleased with herself.

She twisted one small section of her hair tightly around her finger. “Why would Lucia change her mind?”

“All kinds of reasons. These decisions—sometimes they’re not purely rational. Religion sometimes. Culture, sensibility. Sometimes people want a similar value system.”

“We’re Jewish.”

“Right.” I held my breath.

“We’re not religious.” She twisted the same section of hair again.

“Right.” I paused and counted to five in my head. “I’m sure she’ll be fine with that. The important thing about tonight is that everything’s on the table. No secrets, no surprises.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The doorbell rang at 8 P.M. on the dot.

Amelia rushed to the door, and Fritz followed. In anticipation of Lucia’s arrival, Amelia had changed into a navy turtleneck dress that fell below her knees. The layers of her dark glossy shoulder-length hair framed her cheekbones perfectly. I could recognize the skill of a high-priced hairstylist. Amelia was wearing a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Perhaps she thought a prim and proper look would appeal to Lucia.

Fritz, on the other hand, even after having showered, still looked disheveled. His button-down shirt was wrinkled and his hair appeared to be uncombed. He had a patchy five o’clock shadow. He had the capacity to look stylish, but the events of the day had broken him down.

Natalie and I walked into the front hallway so that we both had a view of the door. I picked up my digital Canon EOS and put the strap around my neck.

Amelia opened the front door to reveal Lucia, a girl with a jet-black ponytail and olive skin. She looked to be sixteen, as opposed to nineteen, partly because she was so short, not much taller than Natalie.

The explosion of rage I felt when confronted with Lucia’s presence was unreasonable, perhaps. But I didn’t understand: Why wouldn’t Amelia and Fritz recognize my love for them and look to me for assistance instead of looking to a total stranger?

Lucia was wearing a red woolen coat that she’d clearly borrowed from someone much taller than she was, because it almost hit the ground in spite of her high-heeled boots. And she wore a thin red scarf.