“Lily is the child he helped me raise, and that’s as far as your business goes.”

I rubbed my left collarbone through the knit of my sweater, feeling the thin bone under my thumb.

“Who signed the consent on this petition?” I asked.

“Where’s the judge’s signature?”

“The signed copy is in my safe deposit box at First National,” Rebecca said.

She took a metal spoon from the holder, turned it over three times on the paper napkin, and set it down against the edge of her saucer.

“Paul was an old friend who felt sorry for a single woman,” she said.