“David, we can talk about this,” she said.

“Whatever you think you know, it’s a misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding,” I said.

I pointed to the middle of the oak table.

Kendra stepped closer and looked down at the Hotel Rosewood receipt printout.

I watched her take in the date and the four-hundred-dollar total.

The high pitch drained out of her voice.

“Your debit card got declined at the grocery store, didn’t it?” I asked.