The kettle clicked off. Anna poured the boiling water into a mug, adding a splash of milk. The warmth spreading through her body was a brief, welcome reprieve. Just then, Ethan shuffled into the kitchen, his face clouded with a sullen morning temper.

“Good morning,” Anna said quietly, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“What’s good about it?” he grumbled. “That old woman has been calling again.”

Anna sighed. “That old woman,” as Ethan referred to his own mother, was the true nightmare of their marriage. Eleanor constantly interfered, criticized Anna, and, above all, demanded money.

“What is it this time?” Anna asked.