At five past two, we sat in the carpeted office of the branch manager at Maple Valley Savings. The loan documents for our joint credit line increase of one hundred thousand dollars lay open on the mahogany desk.
The branch manager pushed a receipt for a seventy-five dollar filing fee across the desk toward us.
Ethan signed his name on the final page with a wide, looping flourish of his black felt-tip pen. He pushed the folder toward me without looking at my face.
I pulled the page closer, my eyes dropping immediately to the transaction history printed on the adjacent sheet.
A single line item near the bottom caught my eye: a corporate draft of fifty thousand dollars, labeled with the internal code nine-nine-eight.
Code nine-nine-eight was reserved for secondary, uncollateralized corporate debt.
“What is this transfer from the fourth of September?” I asked, pointing a finger at the entry.
Ethan took the pen back and smoothed his silk tie. “I am just making sure our files are in order for the autumn review.”
I looked at him, but his expression remained perfectly smooth, like a photograph in a real estate brochure.
“The board will need the clear reconciliation by December fourteenth,” I said.
“The board will see what I present to them,” Ethan said, his voice dropping an octave.
I signed my name on the line below his, my signature small and precise.
“You worry too much about the small details,” Ethan whispered as we walked out into the lobby.
“Details are what keep the business running,” I said, keeping my hands in my coat pockets.
He smiled at the teller as we passed the counter, his public-relations voice returning instantly.
I watched him climb into his clean black SUV, leaving me to walk back to my own car in the gravel lot.
