I opened Evelyn’s old leather purse and took out the little white envelope I’d set aside for the three-dollar carnations and the funeral home organist’s fee.

I took out thirty-two dollars, which left three crumpled ones and two quarters inside the paper flap.

“I’ll take them both,” I said, pushing the money across the Formica counter.

I carried the heavy plastic jugs out into the cold, poured the green liquid into the hot radiator and sat on the Buick’s front bumper for twenty minutes until the engine quit hissing.

The rust on the metal cap left dark gray grease marks on my palms that wouldn’t wipe off on my skirt.