Judy pressed her fist against her cardigan, holding the folded check under her knuckles.

“It’s family money, Nate.

It belongs to you just as much as it belongs to Kim and Jeff.”

“It did belong to me,” Nate said, his voice deliberate and quiet.

“When I was eighteen and signed those title papers thinking I was signing for tractor insurance.”

Ron shifted his heavy weight on the porch boards, his mouth working silently for a moment before he looked away toward the gravel lane.

“I stood on a combine feeder house in freezing rain at one o’clock in the morning while a farmer held a flashlight,” Nate said, his voice staying flat and steady.