A family services visitation room with a couch, a low table, a shelf of toys, and walls painted pale green.
I arrived ten minutes early and felt absurdly nervous.
Marco noticed.
“You negotiated with a prime minister last year,” he said.
“He didn’t have crayons.”
“That we know of.”
I gave him a look.
He smiled, rare and brief.
When Lily and Owen entered, they paused at the doorway.
Lily wore a lavender sweater. Owen wore sneakers with one loose lace.
Captain was there, of course.
For a second, none of us moved.
Then Lily crossed the room and hugged me.
Owen followed more slowly, pretending he was only coming to show me Captain’s new ribbon.
“It’s green,” he announced.
“I see that.”
“Ms. Paula said blue was getting sad.”
Ms. Paula was the foster mother.
“Green is a strong choice.”
“It’s Captain’s spring ribbon.”
“Of course.”
Lily climbed onto
