Thirty-Nine Million Dollars and a Brown Folder on the Kitchen Table

He didn’t look up from the page.

He kept his eyes on the ink.

“Did you authorize it?” I asked.

“Of course I authorized it,” he said.

“I just don’t like seeing the balance dip this low.”

He tapped his knuckles on the table again.

“You need to be more careful with your machinery,” Arthur said.

I stopped reaching for my water glass.