I remember from the time Emma was four, until ten, I would read her bed time stories and happily answered any questions that she had at the end before...kissing her forehead and tucking her into bed. Emma loved to cook. By age twelve, she would help me out in the kitchen with the baking. We baked brownies, cakes, cookies, muffins, you name it! Things changed the day Emma turned eighteen. She had graduated high school and Tom, my husband, didnt see why Emma needed a curfew under our roof. Around. Darker traces at the nape of her neck suggested to Harry that the blond wasn’t natural. She looked at him without much expression and then flipped over some of the pages in the folder she had on her lap.“Hmmm,” she’d said to the supervisor, warily “he looks like he’ll do. Assuming the usual ‘return-if-unsatisfactory’ arrangement applies.”His supervisor nodded. “Up to 3 months, yes. After that, well...” Harry understood. At twenty, he was thought to be more of a problem to manage. Most of the. More

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