In my room, I undressed, slipped on a pair of gym shorts, and pulled the blankets down and got in.

At midnight, when Paige returned home from work, their bickering woke me up.

“It’s the way you said it,” Mom said. “And in front of all those people.”

“You asked for it,” Paige said. “I offered you way more than what they were worth and you wouldn’t take it.”

“You were ripping me off,” Mom said. “You’re always ripping me off.”

“Me? I give you most of my check, and then you try and come to my work and get more money than your junk is worth. And that’s what it is—junk! Old crappy necklaces, a piece-of-shit watch that doesn’t work, and tarnished silver rings.”

“They’re antiques!”

“Quiet, you two,” Frick said.

Their voices lowered.

“You embarrassed me,” Paige said. “You were rude and put me in a difficult spot, and I offered you more for the jewelry but you wouldn’t take it.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Mom said. “Just say it. You didn’t want to give me more.”

“I would have given you the whole store if that was how it worked, but it doesn’t.”

The phone rang. It was curious to hear the house go so quiet, to hear only the phone and nothing but the phone, and right then I realized that it was no longer the day Grammy made Robbie smoke all those cigarettes, but the day after. I never thought much of the hours between midnight and waking in the morning as being part of the next day. It had always felt like an in-between time, but there was no in-between. It was always now.

Mom answered the phone. “Who is this?” she said. Then again, “Who?”

A lighter flicked.

“She was found?” Mom said. “Where?”

I was sitting up, listening. I had the same questions as Mom. Was she found in the woods? Walking the roads? I kept imagining her in somebody else’s house, watching TV on their couch or cooking in their kitchen.

“Oh God,” Mom said. “Bring her here.”

Mom hung up. Nobody said anything for a while, but the house sounded louder than when the phone had been ringing. The kitchen sink turned on, and water sprayed against the metal pan. The fridge opened once. Someone stepped on the part of the kitchen floor that creaked.

Then Mom spoke to Paige. “Is your bed made up?”

“Yes,” she said.

“I’ll get you blankets for the couch,” Mom said.

Right outside my bedroom door, Mom and Paige were going through the closet, getting blankets and pillows for the couch. They worked in quiet reaches at the shelf. And because they were there, so close to my door, I decided to get up and ask what was going on.