My father didn’t glance down at the ledger.

“You were always hopeless with numbers, Eleanor, so let Julian deal with the mortgage company,” he said, digging his thumbs into the folded edges of his newsprint.

“David saved every printed bank confirmation,” I said.

“Confirmations don’t stop a legal notice,” my father said, dropping into his voice of authority.

“Julian talked to the bank representative yesterday afternoon.”

I turned the smooth gold band on my left ring finger twice and felt the metal go cool against my knuckle.

“What bank representative?” I asked.