“And it’ll go right on being for that.

You set up the transfer yourself, Harper.

It comes out of the medical account on the fifteenth.”

I had.

Sitting on a kitchen stool six years ago, on the phone with Walt, who had read the account number to me twice, then cleared his throat and said thank you very quietly.

“You don’t get to cut it off just because you’re upset,” Trent said.

I took the black ballpoint out of the drawer and turned it over in my fingers.