"—going behind my back," her father was saying. "In my own house. With my own kid."
"It isn't your house, Douglas, it's the bank's, and half the down payment was mine, so let's not."
"Here we go."
"Yes. Here we go. You wanted to discuss the rest. Let's discuss the rest."
A car went by on the street and they both stopped until it passed.
"I had a plan," her father said. His voice had dropped. "Okay? I had a plan. I was going to pay her back. October, I get the quarterly bonus, if the numbers hold. I was going to pay her back with interest. I was going to make it right."
"Like you made it right in 2019."
Silence.
"That's not fair."
"Six thousand dollars," said Grandma Bev. "For the roof. You said you'd pay it back by Christmas. Which Christmas did you mean? I've been wondering. I keep a ledger, Douglas, you know I do. I've kept one my whole life. That six thousand is still in it. It's never been crossed out."
"I've been a little busy raising two kids by myself."
"I know you have." Her voice changed, for a second; something softer came into it, and then was put away again. "I know you have, and I've helped, and I'll keep helping. But I wasn't going to let you do to that girl what you did to me. I knew you'd see that jar sooner or later. I knew you'd get in a jam. You always get in a jam, and when you get in a jam, you look around for whoever's closest and quietest, and that's her. It's been her for five years. So I made sure that when you came for it, it wouldn't just be her money you were taking. It would be mine. And you'd have to look me in the face."
Maeve pulled her knees up tighter around the jar.
For a long time her father didn't say anything. She heard him lean against the truck; the metal gave a little pop under his weight.
"You don't know what it's like," he said finally. "Every one of those girls on that squad, their dads are dentists. Their dads own the car wash, the insurance office. I go to the parent meetings and I'm the only guy there in a work shirt. You know Pete Halvorsen? Owns the dealership? His granddaughter's on the team. Brooklyn. I've got to stand next to him at the competitions and smile. And Tara sends out the email saying balance due, and every other family's paid in March, and I'm still in red on the spreadsheet in August, and everybody can see it. Everybody can see I'm the one who's late."