“Look who decided to join us,” Gregory said.

“Did you finally finish rummaging through your grandmother’s old junk, sweetheart?”

I dug my fingernails into my palms under the table.

“What’s the account with the red stamp?” I asked.

“Why did the bank manager tell me it’s restricted?”

Gregory stopped looking at his menu and set it down flat on the table.

“Are you still going on about that?” Pamela asked.

She pushed her designer sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.