“Steal Brooke?” A fraction of the warmth dropped. “Oh, honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s very weak today. Very fragile. She hasn’t even gotten dressed. She needs to rest.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” Paige countered, her footsteps climbing the stairs, forcing Lorraine to follow. “A friend runs an upscale postnatal spa. Last-minute cancellation, offered it to me free — they specialize in postpartum recovery. And I’m taking Jonah too. My friend wants to meet him, and it gives you a break, Mom. You’ve been working so hard.”

Brilliant, I thought. Play to her ego.

“Well…” Lorraine hesitated at the nursery door.

Paige pushed past her into the camera’s frame. She took one look at Brooke — on her knees, hand bleeding, ringed by glass and water — and I saw her jaw lock so hard I thought it might crack. But she stayed in character.

“Brooke! Oh my goodness, what happened here?” she asked, all fake, oblivious concern.