Her words hung in the cold air of the foyer. Liam was standing by the heavy oak front door, his hand already on the brass knob. He looked up at me, his face calm, offering no pressure, only waiting.
“I have everything I need,” I said.
Miriam let out a short, quiet laugh, her hand reaching up to adjust her gold watch once more. “Your father’s lawyers work quickly, Sarah. You will find that out soon enough.”
I did not answer her.
I walked down the steps, my mother’s pearl earrings heavy in my pocket, and did not look back.
The marble lobby of the Oak Ridge Savings and Loan was quiet at nine in the morning, the high arched ceiling echoing with the faint click of a typewriter from the back office. I stood before the mahogany counter, the cold metal of my safety deposit key pressing into my palm. A single shaft of pale winter light cut through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing over the polished brass railings.
Mrs. Gable, who had processed my very first savings deposit when I turned twelve, did not look up from her computer screen immediately. She clicked her mouse twice, her eyes scanning the columns of numbers, then stopped, her fingers hovering over the plastic keys.
