The handwritten routing numbers matched my hazardous duty account printouts, right down to a hand-drawn ledger line showing a forty-five-thousand-dollar transfer on March sixteenth.

Evelyn came back into the kitchen holding my red vinyl document folder.

“Your father says we can all sit down together next Tuesday and work out a reasonable monthly allowance for your living expenses.”

“I’ll make sure the paperwork gets handled exactly the way it should be, Dad,” I said, turning toward the back entry as Richard came in through the screen door.

Richard stopped short on the doormat, his heavy gold signet ring catching the sunlight through the window grid.