“You’re in luck. My next appointment isn’t for twenty minutes.”
She led the way to a small, crowded room and offered Olivia a seat.
“First of all,” Mrs. Linder said as she sat down, “I want to compliment you on the work you and Mrs. Bennington are doing. I’ve always hoped that a maternity home of your caliber would open in the city.” Her face softened. “I only wish you’d had the opportunity to stay at such a place yourself.”
Olivia drew in a breath, making a note to ask Mrs. Linder if she would consider speaking on their behalf at the city council meeting. But not today. Today she had only one focus. “Thank you. However, it was my experience at the reformatory that led to us opening Bennington Place, so at least some good has come from it. Which brings me to the reason I’m here.”
“I assume this has something to do with one of your residents?” The woman smiled and folded her hands on the desktop.
“Actually, no.” Olivia lifted her chin, grasping her handbag in a death grip. “I need to know what became of my son after he was taken from me.”
Mrs. Linder winced, then quickly schooled her features. “I’m sorry. I wish I could—”
“I realize adoption records are private,” Olivia cut in. “I only want to know whether Matteo is still in the system or if he’s been placed with a good family.” Tears pushed at the corners of her eyes. “Maybe then I can put the matter to rest once and for all.” She fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t break down in front of the woman, but that was proving far more difficult than she’d anticipated.
Mrs. Linder gazed at her with compassion. “I do regret how events transpired with your son, Miss Rosetti. And off the record, I do not condone the way Mercer Reformatory treats the women in their care.” She hesitated, then sighed. “Let me see if I can at least find out whether your son has been adopted.”
Olivia sagged with relief. “Thank you.”
“What was the date of your son’s birth?”
“June sixth, 1940.”
“Give me a moment to check with one of the clerks.” She rose and left the room.
Olivia closed her eyes and focused on regulating her breathing. Mrs. Linder had reacted better than she’d dared hope. Perhaps she really did regret the manner in which she’d had to take Matteo from her.
Too restless to remain seated, Olivia got up to walk around the cramped area. For such an important organization, they sure seemed to lack space. A calendar and a round clock were the only adornments on the walls, except for a framed certificate citing Mrs. Linder’s academic achievements.
Finally, the woman returned, a frown creasing her brow. She sat down and placed a manila folder on the desk. “I need to ask you a question, Miss Rosetti, and I’d like an honest answer.”
Olivia’s heart thumped hard. Mrs. Linder seemed annoyed. What could have happened to change her demeanor? “Of course. What is it?”
“Did you recently send someone—a relative, it seems—to inquire about your son on your behalf?”
The hairs on Olivia’s neck rose. “No, I didn’t. Why?”
“Last week, a priest from St. Michael’s came in to inquire about him. Even though he was a clergyman and claimed to be a relative, Martha refused to give him any information.”
Olivia’s hand flew to the collar of her blouse. “That must have been my brother. But why would he do that without telling me?”
“Perhaps he knew the odds weren’t good and didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
Olivia’s eyes blurred with fresh tears. Dear Sal. It would be just like him to want to do this for her.
“Well, he didn’t get far, which is a good testament to Martha’s dedication to our clients’ privacy.” Mrs. Linder paused, still frowning slightly. “Technically speaking, I am bending the rules here. I hope I can count on your discretion.”
Olivia dashed the moisture from her eyes. “Certainly. We value your role at Bennington Place too much to jeopardize our relationship.”
“All right then.” The woman opened the folder, pulled on a pair of eyeglasses, and scanned the paperwork inside. “It looks like your son stayed at the Infants’ Home for about a week before being placed with a foster family, a nice Italian couple, who intend to adopt him.”
“Intend to? You mean he’s not adopted yet?” A bud of hope came alive in Olivia’s chest, quickening her pulse.
“Not yet. But only because there’s a two-year mandatory waiting period before the adoption can be finalized. The family has had him for over a year now and is raising him as their son. The official document is really just a formality.”
Olivia’s throat tightened. She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. “So there’s no hope that I could ever . . .” She swallowed. “Even if I were to marry?”
Mrs. Linder’s eyes filled with sympathy. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t see that happening. Besides, you have to consider what’s best for the child. These are the only parents he’s known. To rip him away after this long would be cruel.”
“But I’m his mother.” Olivia twisted the handkerchief between her fingers, not caring that she sounded like a petulant child. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“Legally, I’m afraid not.” The woman patted Olivia’s arm. “This couple passed the rigorous approval process with flying colors and are very grateful to have him.” Mrs. Linder closed the folder. “All our follow-up visits have been excellent as well. I hope knowing that your son is healthy and has a loving home will go a long way toward easing your mind.” She gave a soft smile and stood, signaling the meeting was at an end.
Olivia blew her nose and rose with as much dignity as she could muster. “Thank you. It does help to know that.” She hesitated at the door, still unable to concede defeat. “If anything changes with my son, would you let me know
