“I don’t understand,” Mirabelle said. She white-knuckled the strap of her borrowed handbag and stared at the bank manager as though he had just jumped on the desk and started barking like a dog. She was certain she had heard him wrong.
The portly man in the average black suit gave her a very unprofessional sigh and leaned forward as far as his rounded stomach allowed. He picked up the sheet of paper he had been referring to again and held her gaze.
“Ms. Clem, I don’t know how else to explain it to you.”
“Then don’t explain and just tell me what the hell is going on,” Mirabelle snapped. The manager’s mouth pressed together in a disapproving line, but Mirabelle didn’t care. She leveled the man with a glare. “Where is my money?”
A beat passed in silence. “Like I said,” the manager then g
