Thirty-Six Pages of Bank Receipts and the Chicago Mortgage Transfer I Finally Canceled
“Your stuff’s in them,” Brent said.
“Who packed up my clothes?”
“Mom did,” he said.
He didn’t move away from the archway.
“She spent two hours up in your room while you were at work.”
“Why would she?”
“Because you came in here last night throwing around accusations about money,” Brent said.
“And then you didn’t even bother bringing home dinner.”