A girl came out of the storm with a book in a bread bag. By morning, Nana Harken knew the road had been forgetting a whole family for fifty years. Sixteen-year-old Rachel rode two buses from Texas to a Kansas yarn shop because her late grandmother's pattern book held an address nobody alive could explain — and because a pleasant man in a good-paper suit had put that book on a list. He is so nice. He brings casseroles. He knows lawyers. And he has been sitting at kitchen tables in three states, wherever a keeper has recently died. What the Corvain Institute wants, it does not steal. It counts. It copies. It files. Against it, Nana Harken has a truck, a rooster bought for his temper, a county's worth of women with work in their laps — and the oldest defense her family knows: feed first, name true, and tend the between. Some things can be bought at a fair price on a bad year. What a family keeps is not one of them. Nothing that loves you can be catalogued.