One look at my face and she set the basket on her laminate kitchen counter and pushed her hands into her cardigan pockets, jingling her car keys.

“Sit down,” Sarah ordered flatly.

“Quit standing in the doorway like a stranger.”

I sat at her little kitchen table and rested my hands flat on my knees.

“He called the bank from the living room and canceled my debit card on speakerphone.”

“How much cash have you got in your purse right now?” Sarah asked.

“Sixteen dollars,” I said.

“Plus forty-seven cents.”