Three Baby Cribs and a Missing Set of Car Keys
Shaun took the pages. His eyes moved quickly down the columns of numbers, his brow furrowing as he reached the line showing the transfer to the rental agency.
He tapped his foot against the gravel driveway, a fast, rhythmic nervous habit he had kept since childhood.
“The savings,” he said, his voice dropping into a low, hard register. “He cleaned it out.”
“He spent it on the beach house,” I said. “The entire three thousand.”
“The lock on the Elm Lane back door needs to be replaced today,” Shaun said, looking toward the house where our mother was watching the babies. “And the water heater needs another parts run. I have about eighty dollars left in my wallet.”
“I have eight dollars and forty cents in the savings,” I said. “And forty dollars in my purse.”
“We have Martha’s credit card for the emergency parts,” Shaun said, turning back to his truck. “But the movers want six hundred in cash or a cashier’s check on Friday.”
“I will find it,” I said, though I had no idea where.
