Everything costs more, Naomi.”

“I put three thousand dollars into the joint account twelve days ago,” I said.

Margaret folded the towel into a small, hard rectangle.

“It’s gone,” she said, looking past me at the dark street.

“Between the heating oil delivery and your brother’s nutritional supplements, there’s nothing left in that account.”

“Nutritional supplements?” I said.

“He needs them for his physical health,” she said sharply.

“He can’t sit at that desk twelve hours a day without the right vitamins.”