“I want this finished.

I want us back to normal.”

“Normal,” Martha said, and smoothed her apron, and looked at me.

I picked the check up by the corner and carried it to the kitchen counter, where the afternoon light came in over the sink.

Fairview Savings and Loan, printed small in the upper left, in a town I had to read twice.

A hundred and forty miles east, past the state line.

“Fairview,” I said.