My fingers found nothing but smooth cedar paneling and a light dusting of gray lint.

I checked the lower hanging rod, pushing aside my work blouses and Julian’s winter suits one by one.

I rested one hand on my bump and checked the dry cleaning bags hanging near the back wall.

The heavy brown wool maternity coat was gone, and the blue silk scarf was nowhere on the tie rack.

I stepped down from the stool and stood staring at the empty coat hanger sitting alone on the top rack.

At nine o’clock the next morning, I laid the unsigned loan paper and the printed bank slip on Martha Gable’s desk.