I have had a five-thousand-square-foot house and two cars and a private school and no access to two hundred and forty dollars that was actually mine, and I know precisely what that is worth in a kitchen on a Monday night at twenty past six.

Ninety thousand dollars in a bad savings account is not a financial decision.

It is a fence.

The rest — a little over a million — is invested in an extremely boring way by a fee-only adviser I interviewed four people to find, in a portfolio I understand well enough to explain to Leo, which is the test I use.

And eleven thousand dollars went to a legal aid organization in Fairfield County that runs a telephone line.

Not a large gift and not an anonymous one.