“Where are the rest of the tax schedules?” he called from the dark hall.

“I know you printed three extra copies at the public library on Wednesday.”

“They’re in the metal filing cabinet,” I called back to him.

I heard the master bedroom wardrobe door slide open on its wooden track.

Metal hangers clinked loudly together as he pushed my maternity dresses aside to search the high wooden shelf.

I stepped back into the kitchen, moving silently across the patterned linoleum.

I went straight to the corner pantry and pushed the thin louvered door open until it tapped the wall.