As the moonlight painted a glistening path across the water
behind the Harbor Yacht Club, fifty-four-year-old Sarah Har- rington’s eyes scanned the outdoor party, a serene smile gracing her lips. It was the kickoff of Memorial Day weekend and she was look- ing forward to having the family together for another summer. The unseasonable chill in the air was the only possible hint of the deadly turn this night of celebration might take, but Sarah’s thoughts were focused instead on her children and how quickly life was moving.
How was it even possible that her baby boys-her twin sons, Simon and Ethan-had graduated from college? A sense of awe washed over her as she watched Simon twirl his girlfriend, Michelle, expertly on the dance floor. Ten feet away, Ethan and his girlfriend, Annabeth, danced hand in hand, ring-around-the-rosie style with Sarah’s third child, twelve-year-old Frankie.
A flicker of memory transported her back to the days when moth- erhood seemed like an elusive dream. She and Richard had mar- ried fairly young, right after he graduated from law school. He was twenty-six at the time. She was twenty-four. They both knew they wanted children, but they were in no hurry. He was building his career in Boston. She was a budding artist. Their family would grow when it was meant to happen. Seven years later, he was a successful law firm partner. She had landed a regular spot with an art gallery in Manhattan.
They were more than ready for a child. More than ready to stop waiting patiently. She was so devastated when the first round of in vitro failed that Richard wanted to stop trying, to spare her another heartbreak. Father Hogan from Saint Cecilia suggested an adoption consultant another couple from the parish had used…
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