She had insisted that household vehicles belonged to the household, but she had never put a single dollar toward the monthly loan.

My father came back out of the grocery store four minutes later holding a plastic bag with two yellow cans inside.

He set the bag on the rear floorboard next to Noah’s stroller, then got back in the driver’s seat.

“I checked my business checking account,” I said, holding the screen toward the steering wheel.

“I’ve paid every single installment on the SUV loan since we moved to Elm Street.”

My father glanced at the phone for two seconds before shifting into gear.