“It’s a joint account,” I said.

“There’s money in there.”

Denise glanced at the line forming behind me and then back at me.

“I can hold your cart if you want to call your bank.”

I paid with cash from the envelope in my purse.

Three twenties, and she counted the change into my palm, and I tucked the bills away without looking at them.

In the car I called the branch and reached Mrs.

Gable, who had known my father.