Six Pairs of Thick Gray Socks Saved My White House on Elm Street

of the police station on Market Avenue. The air smelled of wet coats and coffee.

Officer Jenkins, a young man with a neat haircut who had helped me find my lost cat three years ago, came to the counter.

“What can I do for you today, Mrs. Vance?” he asked.

I took the folded photocopy from my purse and laid it on the high counter. “My daughter and her husband continue reading …