PART 5

That afternoon, I called the only person who might have seen the adoption paperwork from outside my family’s orbit.

Her name was Marianne Cole, and she had been Chloe’s social worker when I first met her.

I remembered the day Marianne walked me into a bright playroom full of blocks and picture books.

Chloe, barely two, sat near the window putting a yellow scarf over the head of a stuffed rabbit.

She looked at me, frowned at my tie, and solemnly offered me a plastic teacup.