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

Eleanor was wiping down the glass bakery case with a white cloth, her blue binder lying open beside the register.

“I can’t write a check from the store account,” I said.

“Eleanor reviews every deposit tag at five o’clock.”

“I need cash up front,” Howard said.

“I leave for Oakridge at six o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Give me two hours,” I said.

Howard tucked his paper bag under his arm and looked toward the street.

“Meet me at my office at five-thirty,” Howard said.