The money was long gone from it, accounted for and transformed into years of work and careful investments.

What remained were the letter, Arthur’s pocket watch, and photographs of him and Evelyn.

“I want to record the story for the archive,” Maya said.

“Not just the gift.

The ordinary Sundays.”

She set out a chair for me.

I sat at the desk while she adjusted the recorder.

My first impulse was to tell her about the courtroom, the trust, and the community center.