into her house.
Five minutes later, she returned with a checkbook.
“Who still writes checks?”
“You, apparently.”
She wrote a check for $697.
I looked at it.
“Just remember that $347 of this isn’t refundable.”
“I know.”
She said it through clenched teeth.
I almost wanted to frame the check.
Instead, I helped her carry the tables.
Because I wasn’t trying to ruin her niece’s graduation party.
That had never been the point.
She borrowed the cooler, slow cooker, two folding tables, and eventually asked for my outdoor drink dispenser
