“I’m out here with potential clients, so make it quick,” Brandon said, his voice half-carried off by the wind.

“You transferred two hundred dollars,” I said, keeping my tone flat, “for your mother’s seventieth birthday party.”

“If it’s not enough, just cover the rest with your own money.” He said it the way you would tell someone to grab milk on the way home.

“You still owe me thousands from her knee surgery,” I said.

“And from last year’s holiday dinner.”

A heavy sigh came down the line.