That night, I sat at my kitchen table with the blanket across my lap, touching the blue sailboats Frank would have loved.
My phone lit up.
Kyle.
When I answered, he was not angry. That would have been easier.
He sounded scared.
“Mom,” he said. “Please. What was folded inside that blanket?”
I looked down at the hidden seam under my thumb, and for the first time all night, I understood Madison had not just thrown away wool.