It teaches them, in the worst cases, that love is conditional and belonging is provisional and their job is to be good enough and quiet enough not to lose it.

I could see all of that being written into Chloe over three years, one small tag and one cold place card at a time, and the helplessness of watching it happen, of watching a grown woman methodically teach my daughter to expect less, was the specific fury that I had been swallowing for three Christmases and that that year, at last, refused to be swallowed anymore.

Chapter 13 — Nine Twelve

At twelve minutes past nine that night, I went to check on Chloe and found her sitting alone on the edge of the big guest room bed, cross-legged, the vanilla candle resting in her lap.