“Groceries came to a hundred and forty-two dollars today,” I said.

“Milk’s up twenty cents.”

Mark didn’t glance at the bag.

He stayed put, his shoulders squared.

“Rob was here while you were at the lumberyard.”

I undid the cuffs of my faded denim work shirt, where the blue cotton had worn through to pale white threads.

“He told your mother he was bringing by some hardware.”

“He didn’t bring any hardware,” Mark said.