Mark stepped between us, his leather shoe kicking up a fine spray of driveway gravel.

“Mom, you don’t understand how secondary card profiles work on master accounts,” he said, his voice dropping into the quick, smooth tone he used at school board meetings.

Ruth didn’t step back.

She pressed her palm flat against her handbag and looked him straight in the eye.

“I asked you a simple question, Mark,” Ruth said.

“Why is my name printed on a credit card issued under Nora’s Social Security number?”

“It was an administrative routing option,” Mark said, rubbing the back of his neck.