“You put my Social Security number on the primary liability contract,” I said.

“We’re married, Nora,” he said, stepping closer until I could smell the stale air-conditioned dust on his clothes.

“Marriage means we deal with administrative glitches quietly at home instead of stranding people at front desks.”

Carl set the wooden corn crate down on the truck bed with a heavy scrape that stopped Mark mid-step.

“You watch how you talk to her in this yard, Mark,” Carl said.

Mark didn’t look at my father.