Her arms had been tired since Friday, and the tiredness had settled into them like the weight of a wet coat.

“Thank you,” she said.

The words came out level.

Four hundred dollars would cover the two extra nights at the motel and the gas home and the part of the heater that rattled.

“You’re paying for a hall with your name on it,” she said, “and you’re handing me four hundred dollars on a bench.”

“The hall is business.

This is something else.”

“What is it, then?”