“Just enough to keep the main lender happy until June.”

“No,” I said.

“Sarah, please,” he said, holding the pen closer to my hand.

“He’s your brother, and he has nowhere else to turn.”

“I’ll write to you on holidays, Dad,” I said, taking the gold pen from his open hand.

“But not one dollar of my grandmother’s trust or my salary will ever go toward paying for Derek’s choices.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but his voice failed him, and he lowered his eyes to the marble floor.