“When your mother was pregnant with you, Walter built a crib out of maple. With his own hands. He sanded it and carved stars along the sides, because he said his first granddaughter was going to bring light into that house.”

My eyes burned.

“What happened to it?”

Harvey looked at the floor. “Gregory burned it.”

Wyatt squeezed my hand. “Why?”

“Because Gregory said a baby girl didn’t deserve that much effort.”