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kitchen, setting the dishes in the dishwasher and wiping down the bright yellow Formica counter and the matching dinette set. She'd always liked this kitchen. Its windows faced east, so the mornings were always bright. Sunlight streaming through the windows would light up the vibrant yellows and greens, making breakfast cheerful. Dana was very good at interior decorating and always seemed to choose colors and patterns that added life and energy to a room.
    After Colleen finished in the kitchen she went upstairs to get her books. When she came out of her room, she tiptoed over to Dana's bedroom and listened. The door was closed and all was silent. She started away and then paused, curiosity drawing her back.
    She went to the baby's room. The door was slightly open, so she proceeded to enter as quietly as possible. The baby was asleep this time, its eyes closed so tightly that they looked sewn shut. For a few moments she stood there staring down at it.
    Colleen really hadn't looked at it all that closely before, or at least studied it enough to recognize its facial features. She knew that a baby's face changed dramatically, especially during the early months. Teddy told her that when his younger brother was born, he and his sister, Steffi, thought that Benny was half baked. Teddy said, "He didn't look like me; he didn't look like Steffi; he didn't look like anybody in the family. Now we argue who he looks like more."
    Of course, Colleen knew there was no point in looking for any resemblance to Harlan or Dana in the child. The carrot-colored hair was similarity enough to make any adopted child remarkable, but there was something about the baby's expression in sleep that reminded her of Dana, especially when Dana was in deep thought and unaware of other people in the room. Both she and the baby pulled up the corners of their mouths, and both had that tightness in their chins.
    Colleen was fascinated with the baby's hands. Unlike any other young baby she had seen, this baby's fingers and palms had taken full shape. The fingers were exceptionally long, the knuckles sharply defined. There was no puffiness around the baby's wrists, either. Its forearms were lean and graceful.
    She shook her head and blinked rapidly. It was as though the baby were developing and maturing right before her eyes. She put her fingers on the crib railing and took a deep breath. Suddenly the baby's eyes opened. Her heart skipped a beat. If it started to cry, Dana would surely bawl her out for coming in here and waking it.
    But Nikos didn't cry. He stared up at her silently. She decided to risk touching him and slowly lowered her fingers to the baby's chest. When she made contact, he smiled.
    "Hi, Nikos," she whispered. "I never really got a chance to welcome you. Welcome."
    The baby seemed to understand. His smile widened. She brought her right forefinger to his cheek, and he smacked his lips together. She laughed to herself and touched the tiny lips. Instantly the baby drew her finger into its mouth. She imagined he thought he was going to breast-feed.
    "Uh-oh," she said, pulling her hand back. "Now don't start to cry on me."
    The baby grimaced and grunted. She backed away.
    "Go back to sleep," she whispered. She heard him whimper. "Shit," she said, and turned quickly to rush out of the room. "I've really done it now."
    She paused for a moment outside the baby's room and listened. He didn't start to cry. All was silent. She let out a deep breath and started toward the stairway. Before she reached it, she felt the pinprick of pain on her finger and looked at her hand.
    There, at the tip of her right forefinger, the finger that Nikos had so greedily seized into his mouth, was the tiniest bubble of blood, the kind of puncture made when someone was being tested for blood type.
    "What the…" She brought her finger to her mouth and sucked on it for a moment. Then she looked back at Nikos's room. The baby had no teeth yet. How could it do this? Her body tightened