The flat smelled of stale coffee grounds and damp laundry hanging from a rack near the window.

Chloe set a red mug in front of me and pulled out the chair directly across from me.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week, Aunt Margaret,” Chloe said, her voice fast and sharp.

“I need you to listen to me without offering to call a doctor,” I said, placing my hands flat on her placemat.

I pulled the crumpled bank statement out of my bag and laid it out between our cups.

Chloe glanced down at the paper for two seconds before looking back up at my face.