Emma had spent most of the day at work.
By the time she returned home, she was thinking about dinner, laundry, and the arrangements for Sophie's approaching eighteenth birthday.
The kitchen table was covered with the usual collection of household paperwork.
There were bills, advertisements, a reminder from Sophie's school, and several envelopes she intended to open later.
Among them was one she did not recognize.
Her name was written neatly across the front.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
There was no obvious indication of what the envelope contained.
Emma opened it while standing beside the table.
Inside was a short handwritten note.
It came from Elisabeth, a retired social worker who had helped Emma's family during the months following Sophie's birth.
Emma remembered her.
Elisabeth had been one of the few professionals who spoke to her patiently when she was thirteen.
Rather than treating Emma as a problem to be managed, Elisabeth had tried to explain what was happening and make sure she understood the choices being discussed.
