She tapped her keyboard, her face tightening as she looked at the computer monitor. “This is nearly your entire accessible balance. It leaves you with exactly forty-two dollars in this account.”
She printed the bank draft and held it for a moment before sliding it across the counter.
“We have to protect our seniors, Stephanie,” she said quietly. “If anyone is pressuring you, you can tell me.”
“It is for my son’s wedding,” I said, folding the heavy paper into my purse.
Ashley’s kitchen in the city was bright and smelled of expensive lavender soap. She did not look up from her tablet when I walked in, though she did gesture toward the marble island with a slight nod of her head.
I set the white envelope next to her designer handbag.
“Here is the nineteen thousand,” I said.
Ashley picked up the envelope without looking at me. She slid her finger under the paper flap, pulled out the bank draft, and touched her pearl necklace.
“The venue coordinator was threatening to release our date,” she said.
She opened a walnut drawer under the counter and dropped the check inside without a second glance.
“I wanted to ask about the guest list,” I said. “I have four friends from the school district office who would love to come. I was hoping I could invite them.”
Ashley touched her pearls again and turned back to her tablet. “The seating chart is already with the printer, Stephanie.”
By eight that evening, my small kitchen in Oak Creek was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator. I sat at the table with a fresh mug of tea, pulling the small metal document box from the bottom shelf of the pantry.
Inside lay the yellowed adoption decree from forty years ago, its edges dry and starting to fray.
