“It was sitting on my shop workbench taking up space,” Nathaniel said.

“It isn’t a gift.”

Martha reached across the table and checked Daisy’s hands, pressing her own palm against the child’s knuckles to feel for cold.

“I saw your name on Arthur Vance’s Project Four payroll sheet this morning,” Nathaniel said.

“He took four hundred dollars out of your final check.”

Martha rested both hands flat on the table, her thumb tracing a worn seam in the vinyl seat.

“I don’t need a handout, Mr.