Violet reached beneath her cardigan and brought out a little cloth pouch.

Inside was a brass key attached to a faded blue ribbon.

She placed it between us as though it were fragile.

“The box,” she said to him.

“I told you I’d ask for it one day.”

My husband stared at the key.

“You promised not until Paige was ready.”

The name made my stomach turn.

“Why are you discussing our daughter?”

Gregory finally met my eyes.

“Because the picture you found wasn’t taken on the day we adopted Paige.”

I wanted that to settle something.

Instead it made every detail more frightening.

“Then why did you use the same blanket?”