Chapter 8 - The Expiration Clock
The next thirty-six hours felt like living in a surreal, high-stakes dream.
I completed my shift at the diner that afternoon with a completely altered posture. I didn't feel tired. I didn't feel weighed down. When rude customers complained or tipped poorly, I just smiled, knowing that my bank account now held seventy-five thousand dollars.
Per Mr. Evans' strict instructions, I kept quiet. The forty-eight-hour clock was still ticking down. The deadline for the checks to be presented was Friday at 5:00 PM.
On Friday afternoon, around 3:00 PM, my dad called my phone. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot outside my community college, having just finalized my full-time enrollment for the upcoming fall semester—paid in full.
"Nora?" my dad’s voice sounded tired, strained. "Hey, sweetie. Are you... are you at work?"
"I just finished class, Dad," I said calmly. "What's up?"
"Listen..." he hesitated, clearing his throat nervously. "Your stepmother and I were thinking... maybe we should take Grandma out for dinner tonight. To make up for... you know, the fireworks stuff on the Fourth."
"That sounds nice, Dad. Did Denise apologize to her?"
My dad cleared his throat again, sounding profoundly uncomfortable. "Well, you know how Denise is. She just thinks Grandma was confused. But... Denise was looking at the family group chat, and she realized you took your check with you when you left."
I smiled silently to myself in the rearview mirror. "Yeah. I kept it."
"Nora, please tell me you didn't go to some shady check-cashing place and get scammed," my dad said, a hint of Denise's frantic influence bleeding into his tone. "Denise says if you tried to cash a fraud check from a closed bank, it could be a felony or something. She's really worried."
Worried. I almost laughed out loud. Denise wasn't worried about me getting scammed. Denise’s hyper-calculating radar had probably started buzzing the second she realized I hadn't thrown the paper away. A woman like Denise couldn't stand the thought of missing out on a single penny, even if she believed the penny didn't exist.
"I didn't go to a check-cashing place, Dad," I said smoothly. "I went to First Heritage Credit Union."
Silence stretched over the line. Cold, heavy silence.
"First Heritage?" my dad repeated slowly. "Why would you go there?"
"Because First Heritage bought River County Savings twelve years ago, Dad," I said, keeping my voice utterly casual. "The checks are real. The account is real."
"What?!" my dad gasped, his voice instantly shooting up an octave. I could hear background shuffling—the distinct sound of Denise snatching the phone directly out of his hand.
"Nora?!" Denise’s voice exploded through the speaker, breathless and sharp with sudden, desperate greed. "What did you just say?! What do you mean the checks are real?!"
I looked at the clock on my dashboard. 4:12 PM.
May you like
The bank closed in forty-eight minutes.
"I mean Grandma set up a trust, Denise," I said calmly. "The money is there. But you might want to hurry. The forty-eight-hour deadline to present the checks expires at exactly 5:00 PM today."
