“Brandon’s right, Robert.

The household budget is out of hand, and we have to think about the kids.”

I reached into my coat pocket and drew out Evelyn’s reading glasses.

The thin silver frames were cold in my palm.

I took out my handkerchief and started polishing the small oval lenses, breathing once onto the glass.

“Your mother loved those lemon tea biscuits from the bakery on Main Street,” I said, gazing past Brandon’s shoulder at the dark line of trees.

“She always kept a fresh box in the kitchen cupboard.”

“Dad, stop,” Brandon said, his tone getting sharper.

“We’re talking about real overhead here.

The business can’t keep subsidizing a six-bedroom house for one single person.”

“I built this house, Brandon,” I told him.

“And I’m the one who runs the daily operations now,” Brandon said.

He leaned in closer, his jaw clenched.

“We need to streamline things right away.”