“She ate half a sandwich and cried about a dog she left with her aunt.

Go up.

She asked for you.”

Sophie was on the floor with her back against the sofa, folding a stack of baby clothes that were all too big for a newborn.

“Those are big,” I said.

“He’ll grow.” She held up a yellow onesie with a duck on the chest.

Then she set it down.

“He’s going to find me.