The receptionist’s polite smile dimmed when Mara mentioned the necklace. “We don’t usually track items given to adoptees,” she said. But something in Mara’s voice—perhaps her desperation mixed with conviction—seemed to sway the other. She disappeared into the back, leaving Mara alone with her churning thoughts.
The receptionist returned with a sealed envelope. “We don’t usually do this,” she murmured, sliding it across the counter. Inside was a photocopy of the inventory list from the adoption transfer—one line reading Item: silver pendant with blue stone. Mara’s hands trembled as she traced the words.