The lawyer came as the last dishes were cleared from the table. Devon went to watch her favorite show, while I had dish duty.

“Mr. Crawford! Welcome!” greeted Dad.

“Thank you and let’s get started, please.” Mr. Crawford didn’t mince words.

“I have the adoption papers, the birth certificate and the phone numbers right here.” Mom pointed to the papers on the table. Mr. Crawford peered at them one by one, holding up the birth certificate to the light looking for watermarks. “Well, everything seems in order here, but I will have to make some phone calls.” He looked at the forms for an awkward minute in silence, then abruptly looked up, grinned, scooped them into a neat stack and placed them into his awaiting briefcase, and said, “This should be a snap. Open and shut case. Ruling should be for you, as you are her only known family.” Then he left.

“Bye,” Dad said weakly.

There was something in his tone, like when the doctor tells you not to worry, but then leaves to tell your family you have months to live.