“I’ve got three grand left on my mortgage.”

I stepped down onto the asphalt and shut the truck door without a word.

By seven o’clock the tall dining room windows were reflecting the warm chandelier light back onto the dark mahogany table.

Tiffany brought two heavy porcelain plates out from the kitchen and set mine down with a soft click.

“You’ve hardly said three words since you got home, honey,” she said, her sentence rising at the end in that too-sweet lilt she used when she wanted something.

“I’ve been thinking about the land parcel on the lake,” I said.