By seven o’clock that evening, my kitchen table was covered with paper.

Paige stood by the dishwasher, sorting printed receipts into three piles with quick, sharp movements.

“The floral deposit was fourteen hundred dollars,” Paige said, tapping her right foot on the linoleum.

“Did you pay that from your personal account or the joint one?”

“Personal,” I said, opening a green ledger folder.

“I wrote a check from my account at First National.”

“And the four-hundred-dollar daycare buyout fee?” Paige asked.