Sunlight spilled through the nursery's floor-to-ceiling stained-glass window, painting the floor the color of rubies, emeralds and sapphires. Installed in 1909 to herald the first Monarch baby to occupy the Astor Street mansion, the window depicted a hovering angel, golden wings spread, her expression beatific as she guarded the children below.Since that first Monarch baby, the angel had protected sad few children. One tragedy after another had befallen this family, a family desperate for daughters, one seemingly doomed to watch bitterly as other families grew and multiplied.
Two weeks ago that had changed. Two weeks ago Grace Elizabeth Monarch had been born and come home, to this nursery and its waiting angel, to this desperate family. She had changed everyone's life forever.
But no one's more than her mother's.
Madeline Monarch slipped into the nursery and crossed to the cradle and her sleeping daughter. She gazed down at her, love and a sense of wonder welling inside her. She reached out and stroked her baby's velvety cheek, and the infant stirred and turned her head toward Madeline's finger, sucking in her sleep, looking for a nipple.
A lump formed in Madeline's throat. She was so beautiful, so incredibly...perfect. She still couldn't quite believe Grace was hers. Madeline bent her head close to her daughter's and breathed in her baby-soft scent. It filled her head, and she squeezed her eyes shut, nearly drowning in its sweetness.
What had she done to deserve her? Madeline wondered. Why had she been singled out for such a stroke of good fortune? Even Grace's birth had been like a miracle. She had rocketed into the world, nearly painlessly and at a speed that had taken even Madeline's veteran obstetrician by surprise. Madeline's water had broken and less than an hour later there had been Grace, howling and red-faced but unbelievably, incredibly perfect.
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