“Did you put six gallons in the tank?” Sarah asked.

“Twenty dollars’ worth,” I said.

“The fuel gauge is sitting a little above half.”

Sarah reached into her coat pocket and took out a little tube of lip balm.

“Your lips are all dried out from the radiator heat,” Sarah said.

I slid the tube into my coat pocket beside the spare Buick keys.

“He thinks I don’t have any money left,” I said.

“He thinks what you let him think,” Sarah said, pointing her index finger at my collar.