I Finally Took My Ex-Husband’s “Three-Thousand-Dollar” Card to the Bank—Then the Manager Brought Out an Envelope with My Name

That is not the point.”

I folded the scarf and set it beside the box.

Patricia glanced at the old refrigerator humming in the corner, the shelves of cleaning supplies, and the cart waiting for me outside.

“Why are you still working this many hours?”

“I have bills.”

“You have always had bills.”

“And I have always paid them.”

“How long are you planning to keep doing this?”