only close them again and give her a stern lecture about bank
security.
Besides, she would lose her place in line.
It was finally her turn. Hurrying forward, she stumbled and bumped her
head against the glass of the teller's window. Her shoe had come
off.
She shoved her foot back inside and felt the tongue coil under her
toes. Behind the tellers, dour-faced Sherman MacCorkle's door was
open. He heard the commotion and looked up at her from his desk behind
a glass partition. She gave him a weak smile before turning her
attention to Franklin.
"My shoelace came untied, " she said in an attempt to explain her
clumsiness.
He nodded sympathetically. "Are you all ready to leave? " "Just
about, " she whispered so that Malcolm, the busybody, wouldn't poke his
nose into the conversation. He was already leaning toward Frank, and
she knew he was itching to hear the particulars.
"I'll miss you, " Franklin blurted out.
The confession brought a blush that stained his neck and cheeks.
Franklin's shyness was an endearing quality, and when the tall, deathly
thin man swallowed, his oversized Adam's apple bobbed noticeably. He
was at least twenty years her senior, yet he acted like a young boy
whenever he was near her.
"I'm going to miss you too, Franklin."
"Are you going to close your account now? " She nodded as she pushed
the folded papers through the arched, fist-sized opening. "I hope
everything's in order." He busied himself with the paperwork, checking
signatures and numbers, and then opened his cash drawer and began to
count out the money.
"Four hundred and two dollars is an awful lot of money to be carrying
around."
"Yes, I know it is, " she agreed. "I'll keep a close eye on it. Don't
worry." She removed her gloves while he stacked the bills, and when he
pushed the money through the opening, she stuffed it into her cloth
purse and pulled the strings tight.
Franklin cast his employer a furtive glance before leaning forward and
pressing his forehead against the glass. "Church won't be the same
without you sitting in the pew in front of Mother and me. I wish you
weren't leaving. Mother would eventually warm up to you.
I'm sure of it." She reached through the opening and impulsively
squeezed his hand. "In the short while that I have lived here, you
have become such a good friend. I won't ever forget your kindness to
me."
"Will you write? " "Yes, of course I will."
"Send your letters to the bank so Mother won't see them." She
smiled.
"Yes, I'll do that." A discreet cough told her she'd lingered too
long.
She picked up her gloves and purse and turned around, searching for a