He pushed the envelope an inch closer to my side of the table.

I did not touch it.

“I do not want his money,” I said.

“It is not his,” Arthur said.

“It is mine.

I am offering you a cushion.

You have always been so stubborn about your independence, but there is no shame in accepting help from your family.”

“You never offered to pay my rent when I first moved to Columbus,” I said.