“That isn’t what I did.”

“He’s talking about canceling our weekend visits,” Eleanor said.

Her voice was sharp and loud in the quiet kitchen.

She walked past the stove to the wooden cabinet where we kept the household bills, opened the top drawer, and pulled out my blue leather checkbook.

She walked back and dropped the checkbook onto the kitchen table.

It landed with a dull smack against the wood.

“Write the January check now,” Eleanor said.