I pressed the dark dirt back into the gap and kicked loose gray gravel over the edges until the seam was gone.

At eleven I drove down to Main Street and parked in front of Oakhaven Savings Bank.

The gold lettering on the front door was flaking at the corners, the same way it had looked when Daniel and I opened our first checking account there thirty-two years ago.

Martha was at the middle teller window, sorting yellow deposit slips into plastic trays.

She looked up when the door chime rang and smiled, folding her hands together on the smooth marble.