“The sample was called sunshine wheat,” I said, holding a small horsehair brush near the baseboard.

I touched the wet bristles to the wood where the wall meets the closet frame.

The paint went on a pale, warm yellow that matched the exact shade of the fleece edging on the blanket in my tote bag.

“Vance called while you were taking your prenatal vitamins this morning,” Sarah said, pouring a thin ribbon of paint into the metal roller tray.

“Did the prosecutor take the police report from the Highway Nine store?” I asked.