“Did I hear you correctly?

Did you say your name is Vance?” “Julian Vance,” I said.

“As in,” she said slowly, glancing down at the folder and then back up at me, “the biological family listed on the sealed maternal records?” “Yes,” I said.

“Evelyn Vance was my sister.

She died fourteen months ago, and none of us knew she had a child, because our family was broken and she was hiding from all of us, and I am only learning about her daughter right now, standing in your hallway, holding her.”

The social worker sat down slowly, as though her legs had decided the matter for her.