* * *
He’d prayed,wrestled his pride to the ground, and finally made a deal with God over the weekend. He’d cash the check and find ways to use it. If God wanted him to have that money, then for Pete’s sake, he was going to spend it.
When Sammy entered the bank on Monday in the early afternoon, well-worn check in hand, the cashier gave him a skeptical look.
“I’m sorry, sir. This check is almost expired, and for such a large amount, you’re going to have to talk to a banker.” She hurried over to the open door to one of the offices facing the street. A nameplate reading Fran Turner was mounted on the wall. He heard snippets of their conversation, things like “old check,” “a hundred thousand,” and “scam.”
The last two days had been torture. He’d tossed and turned in bed, Robin’s words ringing through his mind.The youth center needs an angel investor… Too bad no one in Deep Haven just has a pile of money lying around…
“Sammy Johnson?” Ms. Turner’s voice cut through his reverie. “Come on in and we’ll have a chat.” The banker, a slim blonde in a frilly top, gestured to a chair in front of her desk. “I’m Fran Turner. Please, have a seat.”
He sat down. Shifted once in his chair, then sat forward again.
“Would you like to take off your jacket? This could take a few minutes.”
Was this going to be an interrogation?
“Sure.” He laid his jacket over the armrest of the seat next to him and shifted in his chair again.
“Sorry for the hassle, Mr. Johnson,” Ms. Turner said. “I assure you this is simply routine.”
“No problem.” And if it was, there was no way she would hear that from him. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected to waltz in and open a new account to deposit a hundred thousand dollars without consequences.”
She chuckled. “Good. I’m glad you understand. Really, there are two issues at play here. The first is that the check is almost expired. Did you know that checks expire after six months?”
Just under the wire. “I always thought that was a myth.”
“Nope. It’s very real. Now, if the person who gave you the check verifies—say your grandma gave you a check at Christmas and you just found it in your stocking months later, she can call the bank and tell us she still wants to give her favorite grandson that money.” Sammy shifted in his chair a third time. Was she going to take the check or not? Ms. Turner went on. “So there are definitely exceptions to the six-month rule. The other caution we have here is the dollar amount on the check. It’s somewhat unusual for our bank here in Deep Haven to have such a large deposit.”
Sammy crossed his legs. His shoulders relaxed. “I can understand that.”
The banker typed a few more notes into the computer, then turned back to him. “I’ve put through a request to deposit the money. We’ll hear back in a few days.” She slid a paper with his account information printed on it over to him. “You will want to speak to an accountant, however, to invest it wisely. The growth potential here is huge.”
She didn’t need to worry about that. Sammy planned to invest it wisely. He bet the growth wouldn’t be monetary, however.
He would use the money to help Robin and to benefit the town he loved.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Fran folded her hands on the desk between them.
“I have a few checks to deposit in my regular account.” He’d been paid a few times for his courier job, and Edith Draper had tucked a twenty into his pocket after he helped her with her door.
“We can certainly take care of that for you.” She tapped a few keys on her computer as he handed her the slim stack. Soon, she printed out a new statement for his account. He looked at the small figure. It reflected the balance of his newly deposited checks as well as the tiny amount of money left from his short-term disability. Sammy had received those slips of paper reminding him of his uselessness every month since the accident.
He rubbed at the spot on his chest where the restless itch seemed to reside.
As the banker finished the transactions, Sammy glanced at his watch. He’d promised to meet Ben at the Fox Bakery this afternoon. He should have enough time to bike there and arrive on time.
Maybe a certain auburn-haired Fox would have time for a quick chat before he and Ben got to work.
He gathered up his paperwork, shook Ms. Turner’s hand in thanks, and made his way out to his bike.
Outside, the crisp air caused him to zip his jacket higher. He fished his knit cap out of his pocket and thrust it on, then pulled on lightweight gloves. On days like today, the warm cab of a truck held a lot of appeal.
A few minutes later he arrived at the bakery.
Baked goods made good motivation.
A warm, chocolatey scent greeted him as he pushed through the door. The bakery was deserted except for Robin, who stood behind the counter. A heat filled him that had little to do with the temperature of the room.
