It was one of the first things the Bakers had told Emily when she’d met them—they’d been trying for over four years to no avail. “We both work with kids all day, and we’d love to have some of our own,” Mrs. Baker had said earnestly. “We’ve always wanted to be parents.” Mr. Baker’s fingers gripped his wife’s hand hard.
Now, Emily walked the perimeter of the room, touching the light switch, tracing a tiny crack in the wall, and poking her head into an empty closet. She could only imagine how overjoyed the Bakers had been when they’d found out she had chosen them as her baby’s adoptive parents. They’d probably lain in bed at night, dreaming of their child, fantasizing about swimming lessons, vacations, and the first day of school. Then she imagined the Bakers’ shock when they found out Emily had changed her mind. She’d asked Rebecca, the adoption coordinator, to pass on the message—she’d been too chicken to tell the Bakers herself.
Rebecca had been confused. “So . . . you’re keeping the baby?” she’d sounded out.
“Uh, I’ve just come up with another option,” Emily said evasively, not wanting to admit that she’d found another adoptive parent—or that Gayle had offered her a lot of money.
The coordinator called back a little later and told Emily that the Bakers had been very gracious with her decision. “They want your baby to have the best home possible, and if you think that’s somewhere else, they understand,” Rebecca said. In some ways, it disappointed Emily: She would have rather they’d been furious at her. It was what she deserved.
Emily had thought about the Bakers a lot after she made the decision to give the baby to Gayle, especially after Gayle started calling Emily nonstop. Every time Emily’s phone rang, it was Gayle, checking in. At first, Emily indulged her, rationalizing Gayle’s rapid speech, her shaky laugh, her nervous questions. She was just excited, right? She tried to justify why she hadn’t met Gayle’s husband, the potential father, yet—Gayle said he was really busy, but he was one hundred percent on board. When her phone started ringing every hour, Emily let the calls go to voicemail, the uneasiness growing sharper and more acrid inside her. Something wasn’t right. She began looking for ways to get out of the deal. She dreaded the day she’d have to give the baby up.
The final straw came two weeks before Emily’s scheduled C-section. Derrick had asked Emily to pick him up at Gayle’s house after work one Saturday; they were going to go to the Camden Aquarium. Emily hadn’t told Gayle she was coming; she was too tired to deal with her. After parking the car in the long driveway, she’d walked up to the front door and looked through the window. Gayle was standing in the foyer with her back to Emily, talking on the phone. “Yes, it’s true,” she was saying into the receiver. “I’m having a baby. I know, I know, I’ve barely gained any weight, but I guess I’m one of those lucky pregnant people.”
Emily had nearly tumbled off the porch. What kind of crazy person pretended they were pregnant when they really weren’t? Was she going to try and pass off Emily’s baby as her own? It left a horrible taste in her mouth. The Bakers had told Emily that the child would know she’d been adopted. They’d even tell her about Emily. What else would Gayle lie to the baby about?
She’d fled back to her car, revved the engine fast, and driven away, too upset to even leave a message for Derrick. Everything was so clear in that moment. There was no way Gayle was getting her baby. The money didn’t matter. The privileged life the child might lead in Gayle’s care didn’t matter. And so, the next day, she called Gayle and told her that the doctor had rescheduled her C-section for two days later than originally planned. Then she’d called Aria, Hanna, and Spencer, asking for their help.
“Emily?” Aria called now. “Em, you have to come see this!”
Emily followed Aria’s voice to a smaller bedroom down the hall. “Look!” Aria said, spreading out her arms.
Emily spun around. The walls were striped with green and yellow paint. On the far wall was a mural of a circus train, a lion, tiger, elephant, and monkey peeking out of the cars. Above the mural was a decal that said Violet, the o a smiley face, and the t sprouting a flower out the top.
“It was her room,” Aria whispered.
Tears filled Emily’s eyes. She remembered the Bakers telling her that they’d designed a nursery for the baby in gender-neutral colors, leaving a space on the wall for a boy name or a girl name. They hadn’t told Emily their choices, though, saying they wanted to see what the baby looked like before they made a final decision. The name Violet, she thought, was perfect.
“It’s so beautiful,” Emily whispered, walking to the little window seat and settling on the cushion. There were still marks where the crib and changing table had stood. When the Bakers found the baby seat on their doorstep, had they brought her in here to sleep? No, Emily decided. Not that first night. They’d probably held the baby until the sun came up, amazed she was theirs. Scared, too. They’d probably made plans to move that very night to avoid questions and to make sure the baby wouldn’t be taken away.
Suddenly, Emily knew something for sure: The Bakers had done everything they could for the baby. They’d uprooted their lives just to ensure they could keep her, her happiness meaning more than their community, their home. That was worth more than any amount of money. She had made the right choice giving her daughter—Violet—to them.
“Hey,” Aria said soothingly, noticing Emily’s tear-streaked face. She wrapped her arms around Emily and squeezed tight. Emily hugged back, and they remained that way for several minutes. She felt happy and sad at the same time. It was wonderful to know that the baby had such a loving home, but she hated that she still didn’t know where the Bakers had gone.
Emily broke from Aria’s embrace and started down the stairs to find the realtor, suddenly fueled with purpose. Sandra was in the kitchen, rearranging papers in a binder.
“Excuse me,” she called. Sandra turned, a plastic smile frozen on her face. “The family that lived here before. Do you know what happened to them?”
“If I recall, they left in early September, I believe.” Sandra flipped through a file folder containing information about the house. “Their names were Charles and Lizzie Baker.”
“Do you have a forwarding address?” Emily asked.
Sandra shook her head. “Were you the one who e-mailed me about this?”
“E-mail?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “No . . .”
Sandra whipped out her BlackBerry and scrolled through it. “That’s funny. I got an e-mail asking the same question. Someone else was eager to know where the Bakers went, too.”
Aria, who had just arrived in the kitchen, coughed. “Do you remember who sent the e-mail?”
Sandra stared at her BlackBerry. “I swore I had it on here, but maybe I deleted it. It was a woman’s name, definitely. Maybe it started with a G?”
“Gayle Riggs?” Aria blurted.
Sandra’s face lit up. “Yes, I believe that’s it! Do you know her?”
Emily and Aria exchanged a haunted look. Emily had never told Gayle who she’d originally chosen to give the baby to. The adoption agency would never have given out that information, either. What if she’d found out, somehow? What if A had told her? And what if—Emily’s heart started to pound—Gayle was trying to track the baby down?
Suddenly, a ping sounded from inside Aria’s bag. She pulled it out and looked at her phone. “Hanna says she’s been trying to contact you, Em.”