“My grandparents left me savings because they worked forty years running a hardware store.”
“I know.”
“My parents paid into education accounts from the day I was born.”
“I know.”
“And I worked for everything else.”
“I know that too.”
“Then why are you saying it like I’ve been handed a life you were denied?”
“Because sometimes that’s what it feels like.”
Michael stared out at Lake Michigan.
“I’m thirty-four years old,” he said. “I’m a director at a company where people younger than me are already buying investment properties. My colleagues talk about vacation homes and portfolios and trusts. And every time someone compliments this condo, I either have to say my wife bought it before we married or pretend it’s ours.”
“And that embarrasses you.”
“Yes.”
“So this was about proving something.”
“No. Not only.”
“To whom?”
He didn’t answer.
“Your colleagues?”
