Taxes, upkeep, the roof leaks like a sieve.” He looked at the boxes instead of at me.

“Your father was generous with other people’s patience, not with a ledger.

It adds up to less than you think.”

I had known Arthur’s ledger since I was nine years old.

He balanced it at the kitchen table every Sunday and let me add up the far column.

“Who’s doing the accounting for the estate?”

“David’s handling it.” He closed the trunk.

“Look, don’t make this hard on your mother.