“Or at least he thinks so.”

Grace wiped her hands on her apron again, her brow furrowing.

“Carl said you moved cardboard boxes into the machine shed,” Grace said.

“I had to put my client files somewhere Mark couldn’t get to them,” I said, watching Daisy kick the ball back to Ben.

“Are you going to be able to keep food on the table this month, Nora?” Grace asked, her voice full of quiet worry.

“Because your father and I have extra cash from the sweet corn sales in the desk drawer if you need a loan.”