Her determination reminded me of my father, though I tried not to turn every resemblance into a lesson.

At home I placed the receipt from that second supermarket visit beside the old allowance sheet in my records folder.

One documented a purchase.

The other documented a threat.

They belonged together only because I wanted to remember how far ordinary kindness and ordinary cruelty could reach.

Russell asked once whether I regretted the disruption to the Faulkner company.

I thought of Wayne, Elena, and the workers whose jobs had survived because the process had not been treated as a private vendetta.

“I regret that people were hurt by what Brandon did,” I said.