“You can’t trust the almanac.”

She reached into her coat pocket and took out a slim leather wallet.

She didn’t open it, but she held it firmly in both hands.

“I want to pay for your heating oil this season,” she said.

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob.

The farm went through two huge tanks of oil every winter.

It was one of the biggest single expenses on the property.

The delivery truck usually came in early December, and the driver expected a check on the spot.