I pressed my right hand flat on my breastbone and watched him pour maple syrup into a little white porcelain pitcher.

“David, about the bank account,” I began.

“I was completely wrong to act the way I did yesterday,” he said, turning around with a warm smile that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Work has been a total nightmare with the corporate restructuring.”

He pulled out a wooden chair for me and waited until I sat before taking his own seat across from me.

“The four thousand dollars I took out Tuesday was just to pay off a corporate auditor who was holding up my quarterly bonus,” he said.