“Richard, come up here.” Grandma’s voice was soft, but every widow on the street went quiet, and the mower seemed to hum louder in the silence. Rick climbed out of the pickup slowly, his boots crunching on the curb, and walked to the porch with his cap in his hands. Grandma did not stand. She looked at him the way she looked at a child who had broken a window and hidden the pieces. “I have kept every receipt you ever gave me,” she said. “I know exactly how much you took.”

Rick’s face went gray. I shut off the mower, and the sudden quiet pressed on all of us. Grandma opened her purse and drew out a thick envelope. “And I know why,” she said. “Now you are going to say it out loud, in front of everyone, because I am tired of paying for a secret.” Miss Opal set down her beans. Across the street, a screen door opened, and a woman in a blue dress stepped onto her porch.