“The check was not in the envelope, Grant,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“The bank is handling it, Hannah,” he said, his tone smooth and patronizing. “These regional institutions have terrible digital infrastructure.”
“The rent is due in five days,” I said.
“Then you should adjust your budget accordingly,” he said, looking past my shoulder at the daily specials board. “A single mother needs a larger emergency reserve.”
I rolled my silver ring with my index finger, holding my breath.
“You agreed to four hundred a month for his expenses,” I said. “That is not a luxury fund, Grant. It is his food.”
He smiled, a small, tight movement of his lips.
“I provide plenty for our son,” he said, tapping a polished fingernail on the glass display case. “Just let me know when you want to discuss a more permanent arrangement.”
“A permanent arrangement?” I asked.
“One where his daily needs are not subject to your tip earnings,” he said.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a single dollar bill, and laid it flat on the counter next to his empty cup.
