Five hundred a month, more or less.

And she lets the wedding go ahead where it was always meant to.”

“More or less,” Diane said.

“It’s a fair figure.” Ray buttered his bread.

“That lot’s been in the family for years.

You were going to leave it to Megan anyhow.”

Diane unfolded her napkin and spread it over her lap.

“Megan isn’t my daughter, Ray.”