Marcus stopped three feet from me, his jaw clenched, while Gloria climbed out of the car with her sunglasses pushed up into her hair. “Elise, this is humiliating,” she said. “Turn those cards back on, and we’ll forget this ever happened.” My father set down his crate and quietly moved to stand beside me. The children froze with corn in their arms.

I pulled the folded statements from my back pocket and held them up. “Gloria, did Marcus tell you whose name is on these accounts?” Her smile faltered. Tessa glanced at her brother, and he looked away. Then I turned to the last page, the one I had not yet shown anyone. At the bottom, in black ink, was a signature that was supposed to be mine. It was dated eleven months ago, and I had never signed it.