Chapter 7 - The Woman at the Front Desk
I drove to camp so fast that every red light felt personal.
Rachel was standing at the counter when I walked in, wearing an expensive coat she couldn't afford. Mrs. Park stood between her and the hallway.
"There she is," Rachel announced. "Maybe Claire can explain why I'm being treated like a criminal."
"Because you brought a forged letter to take my daughter."
"Oh, please. Mom wanted to see her."
"Lily isn't a Christmas decoration you can borrow."
Rachel leaned toward me. "You really want to say that in public?"
"I want you away from my child."
Mrs. Park slid the paper toward me without letting go. It said I was working late and authorized Aunt Rachel to collect Lily. My name was printed beneath a shaky imitation of my signature.
"Did you write this?" Mrs. Park asked.
"Absolutely not."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "You gave me permission on the phone."
"When?"
"Last night."
"Last night I was at home with Lily, blocking your number."
For the first time, Rachel couldn't find a quick answer.
Mrs. Park asked her to leave. She refused until the security guard stepped forward. Then she turned to me with a look I remembered from childhood—the look that came before she broke something and told Mom I'd done it.
"You're going to be sorry," she said.
"Not as sorry as I'd be if I let you take her."
After Rachel left, I met Lily in the camp office. She was unharmed, but she was twisting the sleeve of her sweater.
"Am I going home?" she asked.
"Only if you want to. Aunt Rachel isn't allowed to pick you up. Nobody is taking you anywhere without me saying so."
"She told the lady I'm not safe with you."
I knelt. "That's not true."
Lily studied my face like she was searching for the part grown-ups usually hid.
"She said the police might take you away," she whispered. "She said if I loved Grandma, I should help."
I held her and felt her little shoulders finally shake.
That night I filed another report and gave Maya the forged pickup letter. As I was locking the front door, Mrs. Park emailed a copy of the visitor sign-in sheet.
May you like
Rachel hadn't come alone.
On the line directly beneath her name, in my mother's handwriting, was Elaine Bennett — Grandmother.
