“She told me this morning that I had nowhere important to go,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

“She said twenty-four dollars for formula was an unnecessary expense and that my client deadlines weren’t real work.”

“She was just stressed about the house expenses,” Ethan whispered, glancing toward the kitchen.

“Your father turned the TV volume all the way up to sixty during that argument about formula so he wouldn’t have to hear her,” I said.

“He knew what she was doing.”

Ethan rubbed his thumb back and forth over his key ring, the metal clinking in the quiet hallway.