For the next 6 months, we continued our usual routines.

We met for tea, talked on the phone, and visited each other.

But Brenda never mentioned the 5,000 dollars.

I didn’t bring it up, believing she was still dealing with the aftermath of Richard’s recovery.

Then, 1 sunny afternoon, I saw Brenda at Target.

She was standing in the accessories aisle near the clothing racks, holding a brand new designer leather handbag.

It was a beautiful, luxury bag made of fine cognac-colored leather with polished gold hardware.

I knew that specific luxury brand and knew the bag cost at least 2,000 dollars at the upscale mall in Grand Rapids.

The rich leather looked soft, expensive, and completely out of place next to the cheap red plastic Target carts.

She was smiling, checking her reflection in the full-length mirror and modeling it on her shoulder.

When she saw me, she waved me over, her eyes sparkling, and proudly showed off the bag.

She told me Richard had bought it for her as an early anniversary gift to celebrate making it through a tough year.

I felt a cold knot form in my chest, a heavy and sudden weight.

I thought about the 5,000 dollars she owed me, money that came from decades of careful saving.

I thought about my old Buick with the rusted wheel wells, and how I spent my mornings clipping coupons to save a few cents on laundry detergent.

For a second, I wondered if I was being paranoid.

Maybe they had saved up some other money from their tax return, or maybe Richard had received a bonus.

I felt a sharp pang of guilt for even doubting my dearest friend of 40 years.

I wanted to believe her, to trust that she would never take advantage of my kindness.

But I said nothing.

I swallowed my questions, smiled, and told her the bag was beautiful.

Another 6 months passed, marking a full year since I had written check number 412.