“He told you it was his money,” Ruth said.

“He said he was taking care of it,” Evelyn said, leaning her head back against the side window.

“I didn’t ask to inspect his bank balance before getting in the car.”

“You knew our household budget was scraped to the bone,” I said to Evelyn.

“You sat on my porch three weeks ago talking about your summer travel plans while I hauled thirty-pound corn crates into my father’s truck because Mark said we couldn’t afford hired farm help.”

Mark walked over to the driver’s side of the crossover, pointing his finger at me across the hood.