The particular image of a seven-year-old sleeping in a parked vehicle during a Pennsylvania winter was harder to bear than any balance sheet he had ever read.

Sophie continued arranging her sugar packets.

“Our car is called Bluebird,” she said brightly.

“Mommy says it gets us where we need to go.”

“Does Bluebird keep you warm?” Nathaniel asked gently.

“Sometimes.

When Mommy turns it on.

But she says we can’t leave it running all night.”

Hannah’s eyes filled.

“I know how this sounds.

I don’t drink.

I don’t gamble.

I have a job, or I did until last month.

I am not asking a stranger to fix my life.”