Chloe didn’t look up from her phone.

Her acrylic nails clicked on the glass in a quick, steady beat.

“The kitchen contractor’s coming Tuesday morning,” Vance said, leaning back until the aluminum frame squeaked.

“We gave him a five-thousand-dollar cash deposit for the new granite island and the open floor plan.”

I held the paper plate in both hands and watched the grease soak through the bottom.

“Five thousand dollars is a big deposit for structural work on a house you don’t own,” I said.