She pieced the quilt the way her mother taught her: start at the edges and work inward, saving the most precious fabric for the center. First the border of calico, then the inner ring of linen, then the heart — a single square of her mother's wedding silk. The finished quilt was whole for exactly one night before the dog got to it. He tore out the center square and nothing else, as if he knew exactly where the silk was. The border and inner ring were untouched. She found the shredded silk under the porch and wept, then mended the hole with a scrap of her own.