Then she saw me.
I stood beside the hotel manager with Lily wrapped in a white medical blanket. A paramedic had already checked her temperature twice. She was stable now, but dehydrated and shaken badly. Her tiny fingers were locked around mine.
My mother’s eyes shifted from Lily to the police officers. MealKit Delivery
Then she sighed.
Not gasped.
Not cried.
Sighed.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said irritably. “You actually called the police?”
The officer standing nearest to me slowly turned his head toward her. “Ma’am, are you Mrs. Whitaker?”
My mother lifted her chin proudly. “Yes. And this is simply a family misunderstanding.”
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