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weary after a day at daycare and seemed content to just rest against her grandmother, toying absently with a stuffed animal.

Hannah’s cellphone rang but it was on the dining-room table and she was unable to force herself out of the chair. Adam came in and answered it.

He turned to Hannah. ‘It’s Jackie,’ he said.

Hannah reached out with one hand. ‘I haven’t done a thing about dinner,’ she said to him apologetically.

Adam shook his head as he handed her the phone. ‘I’ll pick up dinner for us. You just rest there with Sydney.’

‘Thanks, darling,’ she said, and put the phone to her ear. ‘Jackie?’

‘Hi, Hannah.’

‘Are you coming over to talk to Sydney?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Jackie said slowly. ‘I thought about it some more and I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’

‘But you said you would help,’ Hannah protested.

‘I don’t want to do some kind of half-baked intervention. Children as young as Sydney have to be handled differently than older kids and it’s just not my area of expertise. I got you the name of someone, a child psychiatrist, who specializes in very young children.’

‘Are you sure you can’t do it? I’d like to just keep it quiet, between us,’ said Hannah.

‘I’m not comfortable,’ said Jackie. ‘I certainly don’t want to do more harm than good. But take this number. Please.’

‘OK,’ said Hannah. She shifted Sydney on her lap, and wrote down the name and number which Jackie offered. But as soon as she hung up, she put the information aside. There were so many questions in her mind. She didn’t know if she even had the right to take Sydney to a child psychiatrist. After all, Sydney was Lisa’s child, and Lisa might object. But part of her knew that it was more than that. How could Hannah ever explain why Lisa had left her child alone in the care of a strange man whom she knew so little about? Of course it was careless of her, but what if a psychiatrist regarded that as child neglect? Would the shrink feel compelled to report Lisa’s actions to the authorities? What if they tried to take Sydney away from her? That was the last thing any of them needed to have happen in the course of this trial.

Hannah was pondering how to proceed, and Sydney was getting restless to get down from her lap, when the phone rang again. Hannah answered it.

‘Hannah,’ a voice demanded imperiously.

‘Hi, Mother,’ said Hannah. She could picture her mother, seated in her hover-round chair, Fox News blaring on her TV. ‘How are you?’

‘I need you to come over here,’ said Pamela in a tone that brooked no protest.

Hannah protested anyway. ‘Mother, I’m exhausted. Can it wait? We’ve been at the courthouse all day. I’m just waiting for Adam to bring home some take out for dinner. Then I have to put Sydney to bed. I’m just so tired from all this . . .’

‘No, it cannot wait,’ said Pamela. ‘It’s about your daughter.’

‘What about her? Just tell me, Mother.’

‘There is someone you need to meet. ASAP.’ Pamela hung up.

Hannah was tempted to ignore the imperial summons. She just did not need the aggravation. But it was about Lisa. And she could not remember the last time her mother had been so insistent. Not in her usual way.

‘Want to take a ride to see Nana?’ Hannah asked Sydney, who was absorbed with her fabric dollhouse.

‘No,’ said Sydney.

‘Me neither,’ said Hannah, with a sigh.

Adam brought home shrimp and grits from a place downtown, and promised to get Sydney ready for bed so that Hannah could go and see her mother.

‘I’d go tomorrow,’ said Hannah apologetically, ‘but I think the defense might be wrapping this up quickly. I have to be in the courtroom.’

‘Your mother’s timing . . . Well, just go,’ said Adam. ‘We’ll be fine. But drink some coffee so you don’t fall asleep on your way out there.’

‘I’ll buy some on the way,’ she promised.

Good as her word, Hannah stopped at a drive-up window and got a cup of coffee to go. Then she drove the twenty minutes to the Veranda and parked in a space outside of Pamela’s building. The night was clear and warm, the crickets chirping, and the man-made pond centered in front of the main building glistened silver in the moonlight. For a moment, Hannah remembered summer nights at the lake, and wished she were just a girl again, carefree and moonstruck. But that life seemed to belong to a past she could barely remember. She trudged up the walkway and made her way to her mother’s door.

Pamela answered on the first ring. ‘You took your time,’ she said.

‘I’m here now,’ said Hannah. She started to enter the apartment but Pamela shook her head and gestured that she should go back out into the hallway. Pamela, dressed in sky-blue linen, her hair a platinum cloud on her scalp, rolled out of the apartment and into the hallway. ‘Where are we going?’ said Hannah.

‘Down to Christina Shelton’s apartment,’ her mother said.

Hannah stifled a sigh. Christina Shelton was a living exemplar to Pamela of women properly revered. The widow of gentleman farmer and longtime state senator Jock Shelton, Christina was frail and infirm but, according to Pamela, her über-attentive children catered to her every heart’s desire, the minute she desired it. ‘Fine. Whatever you say.’

Pamela glared back at Hannah over her shoulder. ‘You’ll understand in just a few minutes. Follow me.’ Hannah trailed behind her mother’s motorized chair as they negotiated the hallways to the part of the building which had two- and three-bedroom apartments. They arrived at a door at the end and Pamela knocked.

‘She might be asleep,’ said Hannah anxiously.

‘She will be asleep,’ said Pamela.

Hannah frowned but waited obediently. The door opened and an aide in cheerful pink

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