My son’s wife had always refused to let anyone hold their baby—until the day of my birthday party.

us. “Nancy, listen to me.”

She hesitated, then let me take her hand.

“There’s nothing wrong with Willow.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

“Nothing,” I repeated.

Tristan’s eyes shone.

I looked at Willow, who had slept the whole time, her little mouth open, looking peaceful.

“My sister had six fingers too,” I said.

Nancy blinked. “What?”

“My continue reading …