For Seven Years I Sent Forty Thousand Dollars Every January, Until Emma Finally Spoke

I went up to the second teller window.

A young man in a sharp blue vest and a silver name tag asked how he could help me today.

“Listen here,” I said.

“I need to confirm the routing number for an account under the name Stevens Holdings LLC.”

The young teller typed on his keyboard and stared at his monitor for a long time.

“Are you a listed signer on this corporate account?” the teller asked.

“I’m the father-in-law of Mark Stevens,” I said.