Mark rubbed the back of his neck again, his fingers leaving a red mark on his skin.

“Can we please sit down inside the house for ten minutes?” Mark said.

“Just ten minutes to work out a reasonable budget plan for the fall term.”

“No,” I said.

“Nora,” he said, stepping half an inch closer.

“We’ve lived in that farmhouse for twelve years.”

“And for eleven months of those twelve years, you ran up eighteen thousand dollars in my name,” I said.

“There’s nothing left to work out.”