I was looking for my long wool coat, the one I had worn last winter when the winds came early. The boutique was colder these days, and I had promised myself I would be better prepared for the season this time. The coat was somewhere in the bedroom closet, probably wedged between the newer jackets I had not worn as much. I pulled open the door and began moving hangers aside, the soft whisper of fabric filling the quiet.

The top shelf caught my eye. There were the usual boxes—some holding extra ...