“Dad’s tank refills Friday.

It’s a scheduled resupply.”

“Scheduled,” I said.

“That’s the word.”

Sarah held out a pen, and I signed the top copy where the little yellow arrow pointed.

She folded it along the crease without reading my name.

“The girls want Saturday afternoon,” she said.

“Not the whole day.

I need to know you won’t be at that office.”

“I’ll be there at ten in the morning if they want me.”

She studied me for a second, then put the car in gear.

Sophie blew a kiss onto the glass, and it stayed there in the fog as the car pulled away.

I stood in the driveway with my copy and read the amount again.

Nine thousand two hundred forty dollars, due the next morning, if Sarah’s pen had any say in it.