The screen reloaded twice and then showed a red warning bar across the top of the window.

Access denied, it said, contact your primary account administrator for authorization details.

“It worked just fine on Monday,” I said, staring at the red letters.

“Get your coat,” Sarah said, pulling her car keys out of her pocket with another loud jingle.

“We’re going down to the branch.”

The electric clock on the brick wall of the Oak Creek bank branch said nine minutes past two when I stepped up to the second teller window.

Nancy, a short, gray-haired woman who had worked the front counter since I was in high school, smiled at me through the thick glass.