“Units are on the way,” the operator said.

“Stay on the line with me, ma’am.”

Beatrice stood by the sideboard, twisting a lace handkerchief between her hands until the white fabric was wrung into a thin rope.

She looked at the scattered pieces of thick paper near the bay window.

“He was standing right where Chloe needed to walk,” Brenda said, stepping in front of her daughter, who stood shivering by the glass display case.

“He painted those silly little watercolor bridges and spread his supplies all over the nook.