A young employee offered:
“Ma'am, do you need someone to call your family?”
Margaret smiled.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I can help you.”
“You already have.”
The employee smiled awkwardly.
She had no idea what Margaret meant.
At 10:12, Richard returned.
His face was different.
“What did you find?” Margaret asked.
“Nothing.”
She nodded.
“You're lying.”
Richard stiffened.
“Excuse me?”
“You found something.”
“No.”
“Then why are you sweating?”
Richard said nothing.
Margaret stood.
“Take me to your archive.”
“We don't allow customers into restricted areas.”
“I am not asking as a customer.”
Richard stared.
“Then as what?”
Margaret reached into her handbag.
She removed a document.
It was an old shareholder certificate.
Richard read it.
Then read it again.
His hands began shaking.
“How did you get this?”
“My husband.”
“You own shares in this bank.”
“I did.”
Richard looked at the certificate.
It represented a controlling stake.
Not a small investment.
A majority position.
Richard's voice became quiet.
“Mrs. Ellis…”
“Yes?”
“Who exactly was your husband?”
Margaret looked at him.
“He was the man who built this bank.”
Richard stared.
That couldn't be true.
The official history said the bank had been founded by three businessmen.
Thomas Ellis wasn't one of them.
Margaret continued.
“He put his name on nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn't care about recognition.”
Richard sat down.
Margaret looked toward the lobby.
“He believed a bank existed to protect people's money.”
She paused.
“Not steal it.”
Richard swallowed.
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Thirty-seven years ago.”
“And nobody listened?”
“They listened.”
Margaret's voice became cold.
“They just didn't believe an old woman.”
Richard looked down.
That sentence stayed with him.
Because he suddenly understood.
Margaret hadn't returned after thirty-seven years because she had forgotten.
She had returned because she had never stopped remembering.
Then the bank's president entered the lobby.
His name was Charles Harrison.
He was sixty-three.
He saw Margaret.
Stopped.
And stared.
Unlike Richard, he didn't look confused.
He looked terrified.
Margaret smiled.
“Hello, Charles.”
Harrison's face went white.
“Margaret.”
Richard turned toward him.
“You know her?”
Harrison said nothing.
Margaret answered for him.
“He was here the night my husband died.”
The entire lobby seemed to stop breathing.
Harrison looked at Richard.
“Close the lobby.”
Richard frowned.
“Why?”
“Now.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
Harrison looked at her.
“You don't understand what you're doing.”
Margaret smiled.
“I understand perfectly.”