My Father Tossed a Blue Savings Passbook into the Mud at Cedar Ridge
Mr.
Miller’s expression hardened.
“Your grandmother successfully petitioned the local court to enforce this restriction.
She used to sit right in that chair, and she would tap her index finger on this desk until I had finished stamping every single page.”
“He already knew about it,” I said.
“He absolutely knows it exists,” Mr.
Miller said.
“But he doesn’t know the routing number, and he doesn’t have the physical ledger.
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