“Peace offering,” he said, and set the box square in the middle of the table.

Martha’s hands stopped on the cloth.

“You didn’t have to do that, honey.”

“Cinnamon rolls.

From the place on Vine, the one with the crooked sign.” He hooked a chair out with his foot and sat.

“And this.”

He shook a check out of the envelope and laid it beside the box.

I read it upside down first.