HER DAUGHTER LAUGHED AT HER HANDMADE QUILT

time in the right light.

The first-blanket square. The butterfly. The pale blue fifth-birthday dress.

She got up – slowly, both hands under the weight of the baby – and she walked across that room past her husband and his mother and the federal agent, and she picked up the quilt, and she held it against her chest the way you hold something you almost continue reading …