“You’ll come crawling back when you can’t pay the bills,” she said.

I felt Grandpa’s old flannel shirt warm against my skin.

It had one missing button, which he’d kept in a little tin in the study because he claimed he’d sew it on eventually.

“Goodbye, Victoria,” I said.

Her face tightened at the sound of her name.

Then she turned and went down the steps.

The truck backed slowly into the lane.

Dust drifted across the gravel and settled on the weeds by the fence.