“That account had eleven thousand dollars in it,” I said, my voice measured and precise.

“Ten thousand eight hundred of that came from my monthly transfers over the last three years.”

“It was a joint fund, Iris,” Arthur said, tapping his signet ring against the edge of the table.

“The money was sitting in an account with my name on it doing nothing.

We used it to lock in Chelsea’s financing.”

“That money was set aside for the new cabin roof,” I said.

“I paid three hundred dollars every month on the first.”