Linda adjusted her oversized sunglasses, pushing them up onto her head.

“Mark, thank God,” Hannah said, taking a step toward me. “We’ve been trying to buzz you for twenty minutes.”

“I saw,” I said.

I stopped ten feet away from them.

I did not offer a hug.

I did not look at the children.

“What is in the envelope, Linda?” I asked.

My mother smiled, a tight, practiced expression she used when she wanted something.

She held the manila envelope against her chest.

“It is just some paperwork we need to go over, Mark,” Linda said. “Let’s go upstairs first.”

“We aren’t going upstairs,” I said. “Show me the envelope.”

Hannah crossed her arms and looked at the ceiling.

“Don’t be like this,” Hannah said. “We are in a public lobby.”

“Then let’s discuss it here,” I said.

I reached out my hand.

Linda hesitated, looking at Luis, who was watching us closely.

She handed me the envelope.

The paper was heavy and warm from her hands.

I pulled out the document inside.

The title was printed in bold, black ink: *Petition for Temporary Guardianship.*