She wore her good wool coat, but her shoulders were slumped.

She clutched her worn leather purse with both hands, holding it tight against her stomach like a shield.

The teller, a young woman in a sharp blue suit, shook her head.

“Mrs.

Miller, I can’t authorize a withdrawal from the main retirement account without Arthur present,” the teller said.

“He’s the primary account holder.”

Helen leaned closer to the glass partition.

Her voice dropped to a whisper.