The Bank

Time: 12:00pm

Forrester Bank was one of the first banks in the country with an open-floor plan. It had opened back in the 1960s, when bank robberies were all the rage.

Kay Forrester, who opened the bank as a community bank after becoming widowed at a young age, had briefly studied psychology in college before getting her Mrs. Her husband was only a couple of years older than her, so early widowhood came unexpectedly.

So did the size of her share of the family fortune. Her husband had kept it a secret in college, saying only that he had a job waiting for him at his father’s company when he graduated. She didn’t ask much about his job, his dad’s firm, she understood, was some kind of wealth management fund.

In fact it was his family’s wealth the fund was managing. He died while they were vacationing in the Pacific, their first overseas trip since they honeymooned in the Mediterranean. He died when his self-contained underwater breathing apparatus malfunctioned while he was exploring some reef. He was scuba diving.

Kay felt a lot of guilt when he died. She felt like she’d been the one pushing for a vacation, even though it was his idea. His mother, in fact, had been guilting him about not spoiling his wife more.

His parents were incredulous when Kay told them she had no idea how much they were worth. It was hard to tell the rich from the ultra-rich sometimes.

They offered her a job at the family fund, in addition to her share of an early inheritance, but she asked for help in starting this bank in her hometown instead.

There had only been one bank in town, one of the big East Coast ones, and the post-war Era had brought a lot of migrants from more rural areas. Kay wanted to open a bank for those people, and her in-laws thought was as good a way to manage the money as any other.

It was originally called Forrester Community Bank. Barbara had started working there when she was still in college. She started as a part-time teller, then picked up an internship as Kay Forrester’s assistant.

She’d retired as president of the bank by then but still had a desk in the open-floor plan and kept herself busy on the asset management side of things. The bank had picked up a lot of property in town over the years.

Kay took a liking to Barbara, like everyone did, and helped her up the corporate ladder, setting her up as a senior vice president just before passing away.

Barbara was named president of the bank not long after that, and one of her first decisions was to remove “Community” from the name. There had been a few scandals and the political winds were changing and she thought it would be easier to work without it.

She’d also tried to change the open-floor plan but the board of directors, which included a step-daughter of Kay Forrester’s, strongly objected and put a stop to the renovation plans. They’d never been robbed after all.

DH had been watching the bank for a couple of weeks. He had gotten the idea that he could time it out to show up when most of the staff was at lunch. Only Barbara took hers at her desk.

He walked in confidently, expecting to find Barbara at her desk in the far left corner of the open plan, but she wasn’t there. It disoriented him.

The bank greeter, a young man who took the job right out of high school, approached DH. Part of the open plan was having a greeter. He always had a wide smile.

-May I help you?

He startled DH despite being the least threatening person at this, or maybe any bank.

-Uh, what? Yes. Hi.

DH paused, reaching for his phone.

-Are you a customer with us?

-Yes, DH said, I mean, no. I’d like to be. He gathered himself. I’m looking for the bank president. Barbara Darcy, he added, not wanting to seem like a sales person.

-I see, of course. She’s out to lunch, the greeter explained. But we can help, he added, not breaking his smile. I’m Todd.

-DH, DH said. He had this ready. D.H. Winans. Of the Winans Food Markets.

It was a chain of deli and convenience stores two town overs.

-Yes, of course, Todd said, as if he knew a D.H. Winans.

There had not, in fact, been a Winans involved in Winans Food Markets for years.

DH put his hand in his pocket to grab his phone instinctively. He’d have to text Raquelle soon.

-One of our tellers should be able to help you.

DH looked at Todd, confused.

-No, Todd, he said. This, uh, this is the kind of business we’d really prefer to discuss with the president. We’re looking to expand here and need a local account.

He should have called ahead. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. It was probably Raquelle’s fault, he had to spend so much energy making sure she understood her part of the plan.

-Of course, I understand, Todd said. Would you like a cup of coffee or a soda while you wait? Todd asked, pointing to the small lobby like area with a couch near the entrance.

-Yes, thank you, DH said, taking a seat. He pulled his phone out and swiped to unlock the screen, then looked up to see Todd was still there, waiting for him. He didn’t have a privacy screen on his phone and he was always paranoid.

Why wouldn’t Todd leave? Right, DH remembered.

-Coffee please.

-How do you like it?

DH forced a smile, his finger hovering over the message icon on his phone.

-Black is okay.

He just wanted Todd to step away, which he finally did.

DH turned his head back down into his phone and started texting Raquelle: running a little late. i'll tell u when its ago.

He hit send without looking for typos and turned the screen off to fidget with the phone in his hand.