Sadie sat perfectly still in the back seat, understanding that her grandmother had just gone to war for her.

We carried the heavy white shop box and the long vinyl garment bag up our three front steps and straight down the narrow hall toward the bedrooms.

Sadie unzipped the heavy black cover with a long, smooth rasp that filled the quiet house.

The emerald fabric spilled out, thick and cool in her hands, brushing the dark blue runner on the floor.

“Hang it on the wood trim over your bedroom door,” I said.