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sat on the edge of Lily’s bed and stroked her arm.
    â€œMaybe we should say a prayer,” she said.
    But Lily said, “No. I’m only going to say a prayer when I find them.”
    â€œIs there anything else I can do?”
    Lily thought for a moment and then said, “Yes, there is. Go find some scissors for me, and a razor.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œScissors, and a razor. They’re bound to have some in the hospital store. I want you to shave off what’s left of my hair.”
    Lily sat up in bed with a towel wrapped around her neck while Agnes carefully shaved her head. She kept her eyes closed while the warm soapy water ran down her face and the back of her neck, and said nothing at all, so that there was no sound but the chiming of the hospital paging system in the corridor outside and the soft persistent scratching of the razor.
    When Agnes was finished, she took out her mirror again, and showed Lily what she had done.
    â€œI feel terrible, doing this to you,” said Agnes.
    But Lily ran her hand over her scalp and said, “You shouldn’t. This is a fresh beginning.”
    She felt strangely empowered by her baldness, as if she were a samurai warrior, or Saint Joan of Arc. Convicted witches used to have their heads shaved, too, and if she was going to be accused of being a witch, then that was what she would be. It was like a symbol of her determination to get her children back, no matter what she had to go through. She was no longer that smart, tousle-haired real-estate salesperson. She had another identity altogether, pure and strong. She was a mother who was seeking her revenge.
    â€œYou should sleep now,” said Agnes. “You need to get your strength back.”
    â€œYou bet,” said Lily. “And the sooner the better.”
    Her boss from Concord Realty came to see her, too—Bennie Burgenheim. He shuffled shyly into her room carrying a ludicrously large bouquet of red roses and alyssum. Bennie was a big man, over six feet four inches, and he was always self-conscious about his size and his weight, which led him to tiptoe around as if he were creeping up on people.
    He had a big face with a double chin and protuberant eyes, and he wore his hair brushed forward in a boyish fringe. He had taken an obvious interest in Lily ever since she had started working at Concord, and he had been even more attentive after her divorce from Jeff. Bennie was a widower himself: five years ago he had lost his wife, Marjorie, when she had tried to warm up her car by running the engine with the garage doors closed, one of the most common causes of accidental death in Minneapolis in the winter months.
    Bennie grinned at her, and blinked, and lifted up the bouquet.
    â€œYou bought the whole florist,” said Lily.
    â€œJust wanted to show you how much we all appreciate you.”
    â€œThanks, Bennie. They’re wonderful. Here—look, put them down on the end of the bed and pull up a chair. Would you like a cup of coffee or anything? The nurse can bring you some coffee.”
    â€œI’m fine, Lil. I’m much more concerned about you. That was such a terrible thing to happen.”
    â€œI’m okay now. I just want to get Tasha and Sammy back.”
    â€œYou will,” said Bennie. “I’m sure you will, And listen—we don’t expect you back at work anytime soon. Take as long as you like. And if there’s anything else we can do for you—or
I
can do for you . . .” He took hold of her hand and squeezed it hard. For a moment she almost thought that he was going to burst into tears. But then he nodded at the green silk scarf she was wearing on her shaven head, and said, “You know what? You look like an elf.”
    â€œAn elf? Oh, thanks!”
    â€œYou know what I mean . . . kind of little and delicate. I guess you bring out my protective side.”
    â€œI’m okay, Bennie. I’m quite capable of protecting