“That can’t be right,” I said.

“The math on these dates doesn’t add up, son.” Arthur polished his glasses again.

“He was here.

I wrote the deposit slip myself.”

“Maybe he got better.”

“Maybe.” Arthur didn’t sound like he believed in maybe.

He looked toward the teller windows.

“Your stepbrother came in two weeks ago, asking whether the Lakeview house could carry a loan.