“It looks common,” Arthur said.

Ranata adjusted the rings on her finger, twisting the heavy gold band twice around her knuckle.

“We just hate watching you struggle like this,” Ranata said.

“We know how much pressure you’re under when the money runs out.”

“How much do you have left in checking, Fay?” Arthur asked.

I reached into my jeans pocket and touched the paper receipt from the gas station on Main Street.

The back of the slip had the balance printed on it in black ink.