“1959 FIRE.”
“67TH ANNIVERSARY.”
“COAT NO. 17.”
Her shopping bag slipped from her hand.
“Grandma?”
She pressed her fingers against her mouth.
The manager lifted a photograph.
It showed a dark green coat hanging against a plain background.
Six brass buttons.
Exactly like hers.
“Do you recognize this?”
Grandma nodded.
“That’s my coat.”
The manager looked toward the security guard.
Daniel swallowed.
“I told you.”
The manager turned back to Grandma.
“Ma’am, we’ve been looking for the woman who took this coat out of our store for a very long time.”
Grandma’s face went pale.
“Looking for me?”
“Because of what happened here in December 1959.”
The rude woman gave a small, impatient laugh.
“What’s so important about an old coat?”
The manager looked at her.
“A seven-year-old boy was carried out of this building during a fire.”
He paused.
“The woman who saved him wrapped him in that coat.”
