My husband knocked my debit card from my hand at my thirty-six-week appointment, then turned t0the receptionist and told her to cancel the ultrasound.

Then the glass door opened.

His mother walked in carrying the brown leather bag she had brought to family dinners for seven years.

Gavin froze.

“Marlene?” I said.

She looked at my purse in his hand, then at the card beneath the chair.

“Give Audrey her things.”

“Mom, this isn’t—”

“Give them back.”

He put the purse on the counter.

Marlene bent down, picked up my card, and placed it in my hand.