At the hardware store a man I barely knew said, “Nice work if you can get it, Julian.” At the gas station an old acquaintance asked whether I was retiring early.

A woman at church told Elise that taking money from an elderly person was a serious responsibility, though she carefully stopped short of saying what she really meant.

Maya came home furious because someone at school had asked if her father was now a millionaire.

“I told them Mr.

Sterling was my friend,” she said.

“They laughed.”

I hated that our friendship had become a story people could reduce to a clever punch line.

I began taking different roads to work and avoiding the bakery where Arthur liked to buy cinnamon rolls.