“But I loved that little girl when she arrived.” I remembered the red hands at the sink, the separate Christmas gifts, the years of jokes about bloodlines.

“You treated her as less than your other grandchildren,” I said.

“That’s not love that a child can depend on.”

“I was afraid she would take you away from us,” Gwen replied.

“Who?” I asked.

“Camilla?

Chloe?

You made a little girl wash dishes because you were afraid I might love someone else?” Gwen began to cry.