“I know with complete, horrifying clarity what you mean, Gretchen, and that’s why you’ll never have a say in my children’s lives again,” I told her without raising my voice.

Gretchen looked to Peter for backup, but for once in his cowardly life, my husband stood totally silent with his head hanging.

Peter walked slowly over to the bottom stair, slumped down onto the wooden step and buried his face in his rough hands.

“Then tell me what we’re supposed to do, Claire, because your maternity leave ends in three short weeks and we can’t afford two thousand dollars a month for infant daycare,” Peter groaned behind his palms.

“Then we’ll find another way forward, Peter, like real grown-ups who love their children,” I told him firmly.