Standing behind Amelia, I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Lucia is very pretty.”

She turned around to look at me and smiled gratefully. “Yes. I know.”

“And bright.”

“Yes.” Amelia stood and circled the sofa to approach me. “But she does seem concerned about something.”

“Uneasy,” I said. “Under the circumstances.”

“Do you think—”

“It could be—” I stopped mid-sentence.

“Yes?” Amelia asked.

I put my arms around Amelia’s shoulders and could feel her body trembling. “I’m so happy that you found her.”

“It could be what?”

“She’s obviously a caring person.”

“Yes?”

“And I would guess that she’ll care for the baby.”

A dark cloud came over Amelia’s brow. She leaned toward me so she could whisper and still be heard. “You think she’ll change her mind?”

“I think she’ll care for the baby,” I said quietly, “meaning she’ll want what’s best for the baby.”

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.” Amelia pushed her hair behind her ears again, a nervous gesture to which I was growing accustomed.

“No. I really don’t think she’ll change her mind,” I said.

Her hands were so tense, it looked like electric currents were shooting through them.

“If she makes a commitment,” I said, “I think she’ll stick to that commitment. She strikes me as that kind of person.”

“Right.”

Natalie was silent. I felt almost certain she wanted the same thing I did.

Amelia paced the room, from one end to the other and then back again.

“Is the father Latinx too?” I asked.

“What?” Amelia stopped her pacing and stood still.

“Just wondering if the baby’s father is Latinx?” I had a feeling that the question of the child’s race and ethnicity was floating around in the back of Amelia’s mind, and I thought it was to my advantage to flush it out. Nevertheless, I knew I was treading on dangerous ground.

“The father’s race is not important.” Amelia’s mouth pinched into a hard, straight line.

“I didn’t know … if you and Fritz care whether the baby looks like you,” I said, “or like Natalie’s sibling.”

“The father is white,” she said. “However, it’s irrelevant. Lucia’s family is from the Dominican Republic, but she’s perfectly lovely, and she has relatively light skin.” She smiled.

I hadn’t realized that the father was white. It was possible my strategy was backfiring. I knew that Amelia would have preferred that the mother be white too, but she didn’t want to acknowledge that the race of the child made a difference to her, so she might dig her heels in even more, just to prove something.

“Would you like me to take some photographs of Lucia and you together?” I asked.

“What?”

“Shoot some photographs?” I pointed to the camera, which was still around my neck.