Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two

He adjusted his cufflinks before pulling a long bank envelope from his jacket pocket.

“Forty thousand dollars,” Arthur said, drawing out a blue cashier’s check.

“Drawn directly on Greenfield National Bank and made payable to Greenfield Country Club.”

“What happened to Gerald’s check?” I asked.

“Mr.

Miller processed the refund at nine sharp,” Arthur said.

“Your father’s venue deposit was wired straight back into the Ulette Insurance business account forty-five minutes ago.”

“Does my father know?” I asked.