“The kids needed lunch supplies for the harvest weeks,” I said, setting two glasses of ice water on the table.

“Peanut butter was marked down to three dollars a jar on the back shelf.”

“Three dollars adds up when three dollars gets spent twice in one trip,” Mark said, smoothing the receipt flat with his palm.

“We’re tightening our belts across the board this month, Nora.”

Ben looked down at his lap, pressing his thumbs into his knees through his dark denim jeans.

“Can I get new shoes before track tryouts on Monday, Dad?” Ben asked softly.

Mark didn’t look up from the grocery receipt on the table.

“Your track shoes have plenty of solid rubber left on the soles, Ben,” Mark said.

“We don’t buy new sports gear just because the calendar page turns.”

I looked down at Ben’s left shoe, where a wide split along the canvas toe box showed dark blue sock underneath.

“I can go over our household balance ledger again tonight after dinner,” I said.

Mark folded the receipt into four neat squares and slid it into his front shirt pocket.

“There’s nothing left to go over,” he said.

“The household budget is what it is.”