It would take strict discipline, endless patience and a huge amount of physical work from both of us, but it kept every one of our children under our roof, where they belonged.

Peter studied the neat columns of figures on the spreadsheet, slowly shaking his head as his forehead creased with leftover worry.

“The margins are still razor thin, Claire, and if the plant cuts hours again this winter, we’ll have no safety net left at all,” he pointed out.

“Then we’ll cut something else, or I’ll pick up freelance medical transcription work at night, Peter, because that’s what real parents do,” I told him fiercely.

Gretchen leaned forward and folded her forearms on the island with an arrogant smirk that turned my stomach.