Carol, my mother-in-law, came over often.
She brought baby clothes, casseroles, and opinions.
Daniel’s mother could walk into a room, spot one crooked picture frame from 20 feet away, and straighten it before taking off her coat.
She had also started watching Daniel more closely.
I noticed it once while he was painting the nursery.
He climbed down from the ladder, then paused with one hand gripping the back of a chair.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine.”
Carol looked up sharply from the baby clothes she was folding.
“Daniel.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
He smiled at me as if nothing had happened.
“Your husband forgot lunch again,” Carol said.
Her tone was light, but something in her expression wasn’t.
I handed Daniel half my sandwich.
“I’m not stealing food from a pregnant woman,” he protested.
“You aren’t stealing. I’m supervising.”
He took it.
I forgot about that moment almost immediately.
There was so much happening then.
