“The name on the booking was yours,” I said.
“My name is on the company card,” he said, his voice rising slightly as he stepped past me toward the kitchen. “It is standard procedure for client accounts.”
“Why did you leave your silver pen on the nursery dresser last night?” I asked.
“I was looking for my notebook,” he said, already opening the pantry door.
“You told me you were working on the quarterly budget,” I said.
“I was,” he said, his back still turned to me. “But I cannot work with three babies screaming in the next room.”
He did not find anything he wanted in the pantry, and he shut the door with a sharp click that made the small framed picture on the wall tilt.
“We need forty-two dollars for the next shipment of formula,” I said.
“Write a check from the household account,” he said.
“There is not enough in that account to cover the check,” I said
