Tucked up in the back corner of the top shelf was the mauve-and-tan box that held Mama’s best shoes. They were her special shoes; her “fairy-tale slippers” is what she called them. They were ivory-colored leather with silver beads embroidered across the toes in a flower pattern. They had a low heel and a delicate strap that fastened with a tiny silver buckle. Olive remembered one night, not long before her mother went away, how she’d awoken late at night, unable to sleep. She’d gone downstairs for a glass of milk and caught Mama sneaking in. It was nearly two in the morning. Mama was all dressed up and had her fancy ivory shoes on and much more makeup than she normally wore. “Shh,” she’d said, putting a finger over her lips. “Don’t tell your father.” Then she’d slipped the shoes off and carried them upstairs, creeping up the steps in her stockings.

Olive reached for the box now and could tell before opening it that there was nothing inside. She pulled off the lid, found only a crumpled piece of tissue paper and a single silver bead that must have fallen off. She took the bead out, tucked that into her pocket beside the key.

Olive looked through the rest of the closet, through the jumble of other shoes at the bottom, but the ivory shoes weren’t there, either.

Her mother must have brought them with her or been wearing them the night she left. Olive looked and didn’t notice that anything else was missing. All her mother’s other shoes seemed to be there: her cowboy boots, black heels, flip-flops, sneakers.

Olive searched the closet for other missing things but didn’t notice anything special. Mama seemed to have left all of her favorites: her old Levi’s jacket that she’d had since high school and still wore, her suede boots, the purple silk top she wore to job interviews and meetings at Olive’s school, her favorite black jeans. If Mama had been planning a trip, why hadn’t she packed any of her favorite things?

A hard knot formed in Olive’s stomach.

Maybe she found the money and just took off. Why pack clothes when you can buy a whole new wardrobe, a whole new life? It made sense in a terrible way: If you wanted to start over, wouldn’t you rather leave every trace of your old life behind? Or maybe there were things she’d taken, clothing that Olive just didn’t notice was missing.

Olive continued her search, moving faster now, just wanting the whole thing to be done and over with. It was too much, being in the closet, surrounded by all of Mama’s things.