“Mariana, sweetheart,” a high, polished voice came through the little speaker.

Mariana froze with her hand still resting on the plastic table.

“I’m sitting here with my legal representative downtown,” Teresa said, her voice smooth and completely unhurried.

“I know how dramatic everything felt at the hospital earlier.”

Mariana didn’t answer.

She looked up at me, her fingers curling tight around her gold wedding band.

“I called because I can’t bear the thought of my little girl sitting in a cold hallway, upset,” Teresa went on, the soft static of the speakerphone filling the room.

“Darling Mariana, you know my heart.