“That’s six hundred dollars,” Ben said.

“It pays the insurance bill and leaves you close to two hundred for groceries.”

I looked down at the neat blue ink of his handwriting.

“I can’t take your money, Ben.

You’re saving up to replace the transmission in your truck.”

“The truck runs fine as long as I stay under fifty,” Ben said.

“Take the check, Jodi.

You’ve got a seventeen-year-old sitting in her bedroom who thinks her father traded her in for a newer family.”