“I was looking at your driveway when I pulled in,” she said, watching Emma set two wooden chairs in the dollhouse doorway.

“That white Buick LeSabre has nearly two hundred thousand miles on it.”

“It has a hundred ninety thousand,” I said.

“You still owe twelve thousand dollars on that car loan from the credit union,” my mother said, her voice softening to a gentle, motherly whisper.

“I want to pay off that balance for you tomorrow morning.”

“And why would you do that, Mom?” I asked.

“Because I’m your mother, and I love you,” she said, turning her silver bangle until it clicked against her watch.