“I can’t pay it all today,” she said, not looking at her mother.
“But it’s the first of it.
I’ll pay back every cent.”
“She was your sister-in-law!” Marlene shrieked.
“Helping us was her duty!”
I took the check.
“I don’t care about the timeline, Tiffany.
Just do me one favor.
Never call another woman petty again when she’s trying to keep a dying plant alive.”
Last, I drew a yellowed page from the thickest envelope — a promissory note in Shane’s own hand from five years ago, when I still believed him: I, Shane Ashcroft, confirm that $15,000 from the premarital funds of Lorna Larkin was put toward the down payment on this property, to be repaid in the event of separation.