"Saga," she said automatically as she brushed past him, slipping her hand into her jacket pocket and producing a small, plastic card, which she then handed over to the disgruntled-looking clerk. "It's less of a mouthful. And don't worry about that, I've got you covered."

Already she was bidding farewell to eating out for the next month or so, but desperate times called for desperate depleting of her paychecks. She'd worked overtime so many times, anyway, that she'd be caught up again in no time.