“He canceled my main debit card at nine o’clock this morning, Margaret,” I said from the brick step.

“I couldn’t pay for Sophie’s asthma prescription at the pharmacy counter.”

Margaret adjusted the leather strap on her shoulder, raising her voice just enough that the words carried clearly across the lawn to Mrs.

Gable.

“No family court judge in Connecticut is going to give custody to a mother with no corporate job and no money of her own, Emily,” Margaret said.

“I built my whole life around supporting his business,” I said.