“Why are you being so cold to your own family?” she asked, her voice sliding into that familiar passive-aggressive rhythm.

“Is this what they teach you in those granite barracks?

To abandon the people who raised you the minute you put on a uniform?”

“Derek is twenty-eight years old, Mom,” I said.

“He can apply for a commercial bank loan like anyone else.”

“Commercial banks charge eight percent interest,” Eleanor said, taking two sharp steps across the grass to block my way to the door.

“Your brother is trying to build a career in high finance.