“We might lose the house,” I whispered.
Ray had entered the kitchen without my noticing.
He glanced at the papers.
“How much time do we have?”
I told him.
He pulled out a chair and sat across from me.
“Then we’ll use the time we have.”
I was too tired to appreciate his confidence.
“With what money?” I asked. “You earn a little from repairs. I don’t have a job. Mom’s medical expenses keep increasing. We can’t pay our way out of this with tomatoes.”
Ray looked at me for a long moment.
“No,” he said quietly. “But we might be able to survive long enough to find another way.”
I shook my head.
“Sometimes I think you don’t understand how bad things have become.”
He didn’t argue.
He simply gathered the empty envelopes, stacked them neatly, and returned them to the table.
The following morning, he asked me to come outside.
