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She wanders too far sometimes, twice walking past Grace’s house, going as far as Woodward before she was spotted. The officer squints at Grace. He doesn’t understand.
    “Elizabeth wanders. Those rings, it’s how we know she’s safe. We ring when she leaves or when she arrives. The other rings back to signal she made it safe and sound.”
    “And did you ring Mrs. Richardson?” the officer asks Mr. Symanski. Before Mr. Symanski can answer, the officer says to Grace, “Did he ring to signal that the girl was on her way for lunch? Did he ring that she made it home? Did he ever ring?”
    Grace shakes her head. She’s certain she phoned Mr. Symanski after Julia and Elizabeth left the house. She must be certain. She let it ring once just as she always does, but did he ring her back? Did he ever ring her at all? Did he know Elizabeth had come? Did he know she left his house?
    “I don’t know,” Grace finally says, rubbing one palm to the bridge of her nose. “I don’t remember. But I rang when she arrived and when she left. I know I did. I’m certain of it.”
    The taller officer slouches even when seated. He reaches across the table and taps his pencil in front of Mr. Symanski. “Sir?”
    “I can’t remember things,” Mr. Symanski says. “It is being so shameful I can’t remember. I was sleeping. Sometimes I am sleeping too long.”
    “So,” Officer Warinski says. He leans forward, the chair’s front legs hitting the linoleum with a thud. “Elizabeth made her own way home when she left your house?”
    Grace starts to say yes but stops. She mirrors the officer’s movement, slides forward on her chair and presses her hands flat on the tabletop.
    “No,” she says. “No, she didn’t. I asked Julia Wagner to see Elizabeth home. She didn’t stay for lunch. The twins, Julia’s nieces, are here. She had to get home to them. Julia saw Elizabeth last.”
    Officer Thompson stands and says he will go speak to Mrs. Wagner. Grace is relieved, happy that this thing she has remembered will amount to something good. Julia will be able to tell them what happened. She’ll be able to help.
    When the officers have left the house, Grace helps Mr. Symanski into the living room. He sits in Ewa’s chair. Grace sits on the tweed sofa, where she is close enough to reach out and pat his knee.
    “Today is being Elizabeth’s birthday, you know,” Mr. Symanski says.
    Grace nods to make him think she remembered even though she hadn’t. She hadn’t remembered because she’d been thinking about pierogi and those women on Willingham and how best to distract Julia from memories of her daughter. The lavender dress should have reminded Grace sooner. Mr. Symanski sinks into the chair that is too large for him and rests his cheek on one of the cushions as if it were Ewa’s shoulder.
    “I’m sure she’ll be home soon,” Grace says, placing a hand on Mr. Symanski’s knee. It’s like a small wooden knob under her fingers. “You know James. He’ll take care of this.”
    James always knows what to do, how to fix things, how to make things right. When the car sputters, he knows which tool to use and what needs to be tightened or replaced. When the water heater stops warming, he tinkers until it works. When the television shows only static, he knows just how to turn the antennae. When, after five years, Grace still wasn’t pregnant, he insisted no wife of his would have such worries. He scolded her when she cried over it, promised to stay no matter how many years passed, and eventually he put an end to that problem too and gave Grace a baby.
    “He’ll have Elizabeth home in no time,” Grace says. “I have brownies for her. And I know how she loves the ice cream. She’ll be home before you know it.”
    Mr. Symanski takes a sip from his coffee. “I’m feeling she won’t,” he says, staring at a blank wall. “I’m feeling very badly she won’t ever come home.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    I t’s well past bedtime for Izzy and