I was adopted, and Celeste spoke about that fact differently depending on who was listening.
At charity events, I was evidence of the Hartwells’ generous hearts.
She would rest a hand on my shoulder and tell strangers how they had welcomed me into their home.
She liked the phrase welcomed into our home because it made the family sound noble without promising that I had ever been welcomed into their lives.
At holidays, the differences became quieter but sharper.
Blake and Lila were included automatically.
I was included conditionally.
My presence depended on whether I could be useful, agreeable, and grateful enough not to disturb the picture Celeste had designed.
When she wanted a Christmas card that looked perfect, I was positioned at the edge or asked to take the photograph.
When she needed someone to organize a fundraiser, watch a child, pick up a relative from the airport, or cover an expense until later, I became indispensable.
