Crayon flowers.
A crooked little heart around the words: I love you, Grandma.
Slowly, she pulled her hand back.
Something inside me went cold.
Mom had never approved of my marriage to Daniel. He had grown up in foster care and worked as a city electrician when we met, and she treated his background like a stain that could somehow spread to our family.
Three years earlier, Daniel and I adopted Lily.
From then on, Mom’s disapproval became something uglier.
She never directly said Lily wasn’t welcome.
She did worse.
