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for strength, catch a glimpse of her sleeping child. Kenny wrinkled up his little nose and let out a sigh of annoyance as his mother tucked the blanket under his head.
    â€œHe’s a handsome boy,” Stephanie said.
    â€œI’m sorry?” gasped Carolyn, startled that her biological mother had initiated a conversation. She noticed her warm smile.
    Stephanie bent over to examine the child more closely. “Your son is a good-looking young man, and such a good little shopper too. My nephews would never sit still in a stroller for more than ten minutes.”
    Carolyn couldn’t resist. “Really? No little boys of your own?”
    â€œNo, never that lucky,” she replied. The woman flailed her arms. “But believe me, I got plenty of exercise chasing after my sister’s kids. Run, run, run, that’s all they ever did. Neither of them could sit still for a minute. They still can’t.”
    Carolyn’s eyes shone. “Oh believe me, this one can be a handful. He’s almost sixteen months old, and already is into everything.”
    â€œHe’s a good boy, though. I can tell. I saw him in Foley’s looking up at his mommy. Not a peep.”
    Carolyn eyed the woman suspiciously. Did this woman know she was being followed? “You saw us in Foley’s?” she asked.
    â€œOh yes. I never miss a man as handsome as that,” she laughed, pointing toward the child.
    Carolyn extended her hand. “I’m Carolyn Baker.”
    Her mother had a firm grasp. “Stephanie Thomas. Nice to meet you. What’s his name?”
    â€œThat’s Mr. Kenny Baker.”
    Stephanie had made enough polite small talk. She smiled at them a last time and glanced back down at her magazine. “Well, you’re a lucky young woman.”
    â€œYes I am,” she said, her eyes misting over. “Thank you.” Carolyn decided at that moment to toss aside any thoughts of confronting her. She just wasn’t able. She turned her back and pretended to nibble on the cinnamon bun, secretly blotting her eyes with a napkin. She didn’t want her birth mother to see her crying.
    ***
    Stephanie didn’t take long to breeze through her stack of decorating magazines. The articles held no appeal. She only stopped flipping when a particular photograph caught her eye. She was giving some thought to remodeling again. She did so every few years when the boredom became overpowering.
    Stephanie eyed the line at Starbucks as she considered a second double latte. That’s when she noticed that the young mother at the next table had repositioned her chair to face the escalator. It struck her as odd. She gazed at the girl’s angular back. It seemed to heave and shudder every few seconds. Was she crying?
    Instinctively, she reached for her purse. Stephanie always carried Kleenex. She also fingered her billfold to see how much cash she had on hand. Different scenarios played out in her mind. Maybe the baby needs something she couldn’t afford, or maybe her car had broken down, stranding them at the mall.
    Stephanie was an easy mark. She couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything in distress. She clutched a handful of the tissues and eased into the chair next to Carolyn’s.
    â€œHoney, are you all right?” she asked.
    Carolyn took the tissues and buried her face in them. She started to sob harder.
    Stephanie slid closer, moving a hand to the small of her back. Carolyn could smell her expensive perfume. “Come on now,” her mother whispered. “If that beautiful boy wakes up and sees him mom crying he’ll start crying too.”
    Carolyn tried to compose herself, but the tears wouldn’t subside.
    â€œIs there someone I can call for you?” Stephanie asked, still rubbing her back.
    Carolyn shook her head. She opened her mouth but couldn’t form any words. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air.
    â€œThen tell me, dear. What is it? What’s