“Who pays seven hundred forty thousand in cash for an old Craftsman built in the fifties?” Renee asked, putting the water pitcher down on the trivet.

“Some institutional real estate outfit from California,” Daniel said, shaking his head.

“Cash buyers always show up out of nowhere, Mom, but we’re going to give it a shot anyway.”

“Can we come up to seven hundred forty?” Renee asked.

“Not without cashing out our secondary accounts,” Daniel said.

He cut his chop into three square pieces.

“Or getting creative with our local lender.”

He turned to me, his eyes resting on my fingers as I lifted my water glass.