Howard presented his spiel, showing Sally the graphs and tables indicating how much money Sally would save if she didn’t have to make the premiums and how much money she might make if she invested it wisely.

“So if I stop paying into the policy and use the annuity money, I can have this much cash when I’m, let’s see, a hundred and two?” Sally pointed at a very large figure at the outer edge of one of the projections.

“That’s right. Who’s to say you’re not going to live twenty years with your new kidney? And we base our projections on a historically average rate of return on a sensible mixture of investments. I can give you the name of a great investment specialist who could help you with that.”

“I’m sure you can, Howard. And what rate of return might you expect?”

“As I said, using historical averages, about eight percent, give or take.”

“Oh, Howard, I wish you’d called me thirty years ago. If you had, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

A couple of minutes before the hour, Sally saw Howard pull up in his Ford truck and park. She waved to him, and he walked over. “Hello, Mrs. Mason,” he said.

“Good morning, Howard. Let’s go do some business,” and Howard smiled at her.

Sally’s room was small so Howard and Sally sat in the dining room of the home where she felt more comfortable. Howard had brought all the paperwork, and he laid it out in front of Sally for her to sign. Sally picked up her pen and put it down again.

“You know, Howard, when Preston bought this policy, he said it was going to set up our daughter for life. But instead of that I’m using it to give me another ten years because I can’t trust the state I’ve lived in all my life to help me anymore. I’m almost out of money, my daughter’s almost out of money. There’s just my grandson, George, up there in New York at medical school who’s always said he wants to make some money so he can help his mom out. He doesn’t know anything about this because he’s already further in debt than my kidney’s going to cost me. No one’s got any money, they’ve just got debt. How’d it get this way, Howard?”

Howard Essen looked down at his feet. They’d talked a little about Howard’s previous career and the mortgage craziness and about how Sally’s pop sometimes gave customers a little bit of credit at the store before the end of the week when they’d spent the previous paycheck. And how he almost always regretted doing it.

“I swear I don’t know, Mrs. Mason.”

“Oh, I think we have some idea, Howard.”