“I’m not judging you, Jane.”
She leaned back in her chair and shook her head.“Sorry.I’m overreacting.I guess it’s because I have this argument with my parents every time I see them.”
“Grandma always tries to give Mom money and she always says no.Sometimes they cry.”
Thanks for sharing, Billie, Jane thought ruefully, realizing she’d have to be more careful about what she said and did while her daughter was in the room.
“We do have Billie’s college fund,” she said, to change the subject.She pulled out the forms.“I guess we need to transfer this, or something.I didn’t want to close the account and risk the tax status.”
He took the papers.“You don’t have a savings account, but Billie has a college fund?”
“Yes.”
Something flickered in his brown eyes, something warm and genuine.She willed time to freeze, so that he would go on like this forever, but Billie leaned over them, her foot kicking the business card holder onto the floor and sending Miss Yarns’s cards scattering in all directions.
“Oops, sorry.”Billie slid to the edge of the desk and jumped to the floor.“I’ll get them.”
Jane watched to make sure she’d landed safely, then glanced back at Adam, but the contact had been broken.He studied the account information.
“It’s pretty standard,” he said.“We’ll put it in her name, with you ATF.”
“Fine.”
“What’s ATF?”Billie shoved the loose cards onto the desk and reached for the holder.
“As trustee for.It means your mom can handle the account for you.”
“I want to take care of my own money.”
“You can’t.”
“Why?”
“You’re a child.”
“It’s formycollege.”
“When you’re ready for college, then you’ll have a say-so.Until then, it is being kept for you.”
Billie tilted her chin up.Adam straightened in his chair.
“How do I know the money will be there?What if someone wants to spend my money?”
“No one will do that.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m the bank president.It’s my job to know.”
Billie planted her hands on her hips.“What ifyouspend it?”
“That’s against the law.”
“Oh.”
Identical pairs of brown eyes flashed with identical fire.Billie’s cap hid most of her hair, but Jane knew the color was close, too close, to her father’s.Matching shoulders squared against the opponent, similar mouths straightened.
How couldn’t they know?Why didn’t everyone see it?They were two peas in a pod, a matched set, father and daughter.It was as if a fist closed over her heart and began to squeeze.She was playing with two lives.What would the price of honesty be?Would she lose them both?
