“You told me she gave me up.”
Edith looked down.
“You told her I agreed to the move,” Margaret said.
Edith closed her eyes.
Claire waited.
Margaret did too.
Finally Edith said, “I was young.”
Margaret stared.
“You were thirty-seven.”
Edith looked at her.
“That feels young now.”
“It was old enough to know a lie from the truth.”
Claire’s hands tightened.
“Why?”
Edith looked at her.
“I thought I was helping.”
Claire laughed once.
“No.”
Edith flinched.
“I thought Margaret was becoming too attached.”
Margaret’s face hardened.
“I was trying to adopt her.”
“I know.”
“Then what did ‘too attached’ mean?”
Edith looked down.
“The case was complicated.”
“That is not an answer.”
Edith rubbed her hands together.
“Your mother had resurfaced. Then disappeared again. There were concerns about permanency. The agency was under pressure to avoid foster parents assuming adoption too early.”
Margaret leaned forward.
“So you moved a child who was stable because I cared about her?”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“Then make it simple enough to understand.”
Edith’s mouth tightened.
“You challenged me constantly.”
Margaret went still.
Claire stared.
Edith continued.
“You called my supervisor. You questioned visitation decisions. You demanded counseling approval. You accused the agency of moving children too often.”
“I was right.”
