I took a twenty-dollar bill out of my purse and gave it to the young clerk, who kept her gaze locked on the scanner screen.

“Keep the paper receipt in the box in your nightstand,” Renee said, turning toward the sliding glass doors.

“Daniel needs every single line item accounted for by the end of the week.”

I carried the brown paper sack out into the glaring noon air and trailed Renee to her white SUV without a word.

“We need to stop by the bank at three for Daniel’s notary forms,” Renee said as she unlocked the doors.

“He wants your file consolidated before the end of the month.”