The card terminal at the Oakhaven Grain Elevator counter chirped twice and printed a thin strip of pink paper into the metal tray.

Mark jabbed the glass screen with his thumb, pressing against the counter edge until his knuckle went white, then slid the black plastic card back into his leather billfold.

“System glitch,” Mark said with a smooth laugh, nodding at the clerk behind the wire cage.

“The regional bank updated their server overnight, so card processing is down across the whole county.”

The clerk tore off the pink rejection slip, balled it up, and tossed it into the wire wastebasket beside the grain scale.

I stepped closer to the edge of the wooden counter and adjusted the leather band of my silver wristwatch against my skin.

“That card draws straight from our main household checking account, Mark,” I said, keeping my voice low and even.

“I deposited three independent bookkeeping checks at the drive-through window on Friday afternoon.”

“Computer servers don’t care about Friday afternoon deposits, Nora,” Mark said, turning his shoulders toward the double glass doors.

“We’ll let the head teller sort out the transaction glitch tomorrow morning.”

He tossed his key ring into the air and caught it in his palm, the tiny brass lockbox key catching the yellow fluorescent light from the ceiling fixtures.

“The high school principal called five minutes ago about an urgent school board budget revision for the fall term.”

He reached into his pocket, jingling his car keys against his leg in a quick rhythm.

“Administrative duties call,” he said, opening his car door.

“Nora knows how to handle thirty-pound crates just as well as any hired farmhand.”

Carl didn’t answer him, stepping past the rear bumper of the truck to lift another wooden box onto the iron runner.

I grabbed the wire handles of a heavy sweet corn basket and hoisted it onto the wooden ramp, feeling fresh corn silk stick to my denim work shirt as dust rose around my worn work boots.