“It’s humiliating,” he said. “You’re a grown woman.”

Grandma looked at me, and for the first time that evening I recognized something behind her expression. Not amusement. Not confusion. Urgency.

Chapter 2 — We Need to Talk

The next morning I drove to First Mountain Trust Bank with the check secured inside a folder. I expected the teller to smile politely and explain that my grandmother had made some kind of mistake.

Instead, she examined the check and stopped smiling. She called over the branch manager, a tall man named David Callahan. He looked at the check, then at me, then back at the check.

His face lost all color. He guided me into a glass office and closed the door.

“Ma’am,” he whispered, “we need to talk.”

He didn’t sit right away. He stood holding the check in both hands, like evidence in a criminal case. “Is there a problem?” I asked. He glanced through the glass wall toward the lobby, then closed the blinds.

“Where did you get this?”

“My grandmother gave it to me last night.”

“Evelyn Whitaker?”

I nodded. His jaw tightened. “Mrs. Whitaker has been a private client of this bank for nearly twenty years.”

My stomach dropped. “So the check is real?”