“Lucia!” Amelia embraced the girl as if they were related. “Thank you for coming, sweetheart.”

Lucia timidly stepped inside the house, her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. She removed her boots and left them at the door while Amelia hung her coat. Without a coat on, it was obvious how pregnant Lucia was. Amelia led her to the library and offered everyone a glass of water. Fritz left the room and returned with a bottle of IPA for himself.

I sat next to Lucia on one of the sofas, resentment rising up into my throat. Fritz and Amelia sat on the opposite sofa, and Natalie perched on the arm next to her father. My breath was shallow and restricted, like I might hyperventilate. I needed to calm my nerves. I needed to think clearly.

“You have a beautiful home,” Lucia said. She adjusted her body so that she could lean her lower back against the throw pillows on the sofa.

“Thank you,” Amelia and Fritz said in unison.

Natalie made no attempt to hide the fact that she was staring at Lucia. Natalie’s eyes moved to Lucia’s face, probably assessing her purple eye shadow, then dropped down to her hands and her fingernails and her floral nail art.

“I recognize how important it is for you to know and understand the family who will adopt the child,” Amelia said. “You need to feel a hundred percent confident in your decision. We all need to feel that way.”

I focused on slow and sustained breathing, low into my core.

Fritz interjected. “So what are you looking for here?”

I detected a hint of hostility in his voice, and it seemed Lucia did too.

“Um…” Lucia hesitated.

A hard glint flashed in Amelia’s eyes. “What Fritz means,” she said, “and what we all know, is that you want to find—”

Fritz interrupted. “Let Lucia answer.”

“I can’t support the baby,” she said. “I can barely support myself.” She looked down at her fingernails self-consciously. Perhaps she’d noticed Natalie studying them. She examined her thumbnail closely, as if dissatisfied with that one in particular. Lucia had all of the power in this situation, but didn’t appear to recognize her leverage.

“Where’s the father?” Fritz asked. I was glad that subject was on the table, because it went straight to the question of character.

Amelia leaned over the marble coffee table and handed Lucia a platter of strawberries and grapes.

Lucia took the platter and held it in her lap, though it was a serving tray and not intended for her to keep. “I don’t speak to him.” Her face flushed slightly.

Fritz adjusted his glasses on his nose. “Were you in a relationship with him?”

“It depends on what you say a relationship is.” Lucia attempted a laugh.

“Did you live together?” Fritz sipped his IPA, then set the bottle on the coffee table in front of him.