Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
The autumn air was brisk, and the light drizzle had turned into a steady rain by the time dinner ended. I went out to the back porch to retrieve the wooden salad bowls I had left on the side table to dry. Arthur was already standing near the railing, a small cigar unlit between his fingers, his hands still deep in his pockets.
“He is trying, Clare,” Arthur said, his voice low, barely louder than the patter of the rain on the tin roof. “Marcus is doing his best under immense pressure.”
“We are both under pressure, Arthur,” I said. “The debts are three hundred thousand dollars.”
“He has a lot of responsibilities,” Arthur mumbled, his shoulders hunched against the damp chill. “A young man makes mistakes when he is trying to build something.”
“Some mistakes are written down on deeds,” I said, watching him closely.
Arthur did not blink. He simply turned his face toward the driveway, where the yellow porch light reflected in the growing puddles. “You are a strong girl. You can handle more than most.”
