Chapter 19: Go Home, Auntie

I ran out of the boat house with my robe still half tied.

Joel was behind me with the truck keys.

He called the sheriff's office from the driver's seat while I dressed in the passenger seat.

"She likes the bakery on Superior Street," the assistant said from the back.

"How do you know?"

"I order her croissants every Friday."

The bakery had a front window full of cakes and a line out the door.

I saw her through the glass before I saw anything else.

Ingrid sat at a small round table by the radiator, in her camel coat, with a cup of hot chocolate in front of my daughter.

Maisie sat in a booster chair with whipped cream on her nose.

She was swinging her feet and talking in her happy, invented language.

Ingrid was smiling, and she looked like any warm aunt on a Tuesday.

I stopped in the doorway, and the whole bakery turned around.

"Mama!"

Maisie held both arms up.

I crossed the room and picked her up.

She smelled like chocolate, and I held her so hard she squeaked.

"Sweetie," Ingrid said. "You didn't need to rush."

"You took my daughter from her daycare."

"I picked up my niece. I'm on the approved list."

"You are not her aunt."

"I was her aunt before you were her mother."

The words were out before she could stop them, and she heard them.

A woman at the next table lowered her fork.

"Tobin's list," I said. "From before the court order."

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