AND THEN, OVER THE COURSE of several days: an engraved cake knife, missing. A decorative tile, a letter opener. A napkin ring. Isabel sat through a long Sunday morning in the church’s pews. Around her the congregation mumbled along to a song and Isabel stared ahead, unseeing, at the blurry space between the piano and the pulpit. Before her: a big wooden cross. All around: the inlaid windows. Dust caught in motion. Two more weeks to Louis’s return.
