Evelyn was leaning against the passenger door, twirling her car key lanyard around her index finger in fast, rhythmic loops.

“Evelyn,” Ruth said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin Midwestern quiet.

“Did you know whose credit card was paying for that lake cabin this weekend?”

Evelyn stopped spinning the lanyard, letting the heavy metal keys drop flat into her palm.

“Mark said he had a private travel account through his administrators’ association,” Evelyn said, her eyes darting toward the barn roof.

“He said it was part of his summer expense package.”