He gestured for me to follow him into his office, his demeanor changing from surprise to a sort of reverence. Inside, the room was expansive; floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline, and the desk was a monument of polished wood. He offered me a seat as if I weren’t already sitting, then stopped himself and smiled apologetically.
The bank manager sat across from me, opening a laptop and typing quickly. I watched his fingers dance over the keyboard, each tap pulling him further into whatever world of data he was unlocking. His eyes widened as the screen began to spill its secrets.
“Mrs. Carter,” he began again, still not quite believing whatever he was seeing. “Your husband had a very substantial account here.”
