Sarah hesitated, looking toward the glass office at the back of the lobby.
“I cannot give you the full details of his private account, Claire,” she said, her voice gentle. “But I can print the transaction record showing the money leaving your joint savings.”
She pressed a button, and the printer behind her began to hum, producing a single sheet of paper.
She slid the printed bank statement across the counter toward me, the black ink still fresh.
“The manager, Edward, is out at a meeting today,” Sarah added, keeping her hand on the paper for a second. “But if you want to come back tomorrow morning, he can look into the security settings for you.”
“Thank you, Sarah,” I said.
I folded the paper and slid it into my coat pocket.
The kitchen table was set for two when Daniel came home, the smell of the pot roast filling the small dining area. He set his leather briefcase by the door and sat down, immediately reaching for his water glass and tapping his fingernails against the side.
