Chapter 7: Dealership Floor

The savings account had been my grandmother's, and she left it to me in her will.

Forty-four thousand dollars, and I had never touched it.

I put it in a joint account with Troy the week after the wedding, because he said married people should have no secrets.

On Monday morning, I printed twenty months of statements at the library.

On Tuesday, I strapped Poppy to my chest in the carrier and drove to Hendry Farm & Equipment.

It was the biggest building in Little Pines, with a hundred tractors lined up under the flags.

The showroom smelled of new tires.

At the front desk, a young man in a company polo started to stand and then sat down again when he saw who it was.

"Mrs. Keller. Troy's not in."

"His car is in the lot."

"He's, uh. In a meeting."

"Which room?"

He pointed at the glass door at the back.

Behind it I could see a long table, and Troy at the far end of it, and the owner at the head.

The owner was Russ's father, a heavy old man with a white crew cut who had given a toast at my wedding.

Russ himself sat to his father's right, in a gray work jacket, with his arms crossed.

I pushed the door open.

They all stopped talking.

"Maggie," Troy said, getting up. "This isn't the place."

"It's the best place," I said.

I walked to the head of the table.

I set the statements down in front of the owner, in a neat stack, with the yellow tabs I had put on them.

"Mr. Hendry. My husband works for you. I'd like you to see where my grandmother's money went."

"Mrs. Keller." The old man looked at Poppy, and at the stack. "You've had a baby. Congratulations. Is this the time?"