I knew Robert’s handwriting better than my own.

It was his phrase, his habit of abbreviating dates, his way of writing the number seven with a slash.

The receipt showed an amount of twelve thousand dollars.

On the same date, Robert had deposited nearly the same amount in cash into an account I had never known existed.

For years I’d believed our financial trouble began after the birth.

I remembered overdue utility bills, a sudden reprieve when Robert found ‘consulting work,’ the nervous way he’d reacted whenever I asked about it.