Fiona picked up on the second ring.

“First National, this is Fiona, how can I help you?” she said in her unmistakable whisper.

“Fiona, this is Naomi Carter,” I said.

“We talked at the counter yesterday.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Carter,” Fiona whispered, her voice sinking even lower as she went on.

“I remember your account.”

I heard the sharp tapping of her fingernails on a keyboard, then a soft slide as she pushed her glasses up her nose.

“Is the balance in the joint account still at zero?” I asked.