“Groceries at the market came to exactly one hundred and forty-two dollars,” I said, keeping my voice even.

“Well, the price of everything went up,” she snapped, yanking a bath towel taut between her hands.

“I’m tired of buying cheap, shoddy things that fall apart in two weeks because you won’t spend money on anything decent.”

I looked past her at the coat rack in the front hall, where twelve-year-old Lily’s blue winter jacket hung with fraying cuffs and worn-thin elbows.

“There aren’t any new coats on that rack, Vanessa,” I said.