She looked at the fragment for a long time. Then she nodded. "You may. But we are not going to make this just about a torn check, Darius. People watched him do that and nobody in charge tried to stop him."
He followed her gaze toward the lobby. "I know. And that's what I intend to find out."
Darius walked his mother to the bus shelter, though he offered to drive her home and she refused. It was not that she enjoyed waiting in the heat. She needed a few minutes in which to recover the sense that she was still capable of directing her own day. The afternoon buses, the people carrying grocery bags, the advertisements stuck to the shelter glass: these familiar things made the morning's humiliation feel less like a change in the laws of the world.
"The check can be replaced, can't it?" she asked.
"Yes. A settlement administrator can cancel the original instrument and issue another after verification. It may take some time, and that's a real problem with your deadline, but ripping the paper doesn't erase the obligation."
"He knew I needed the money quickly. I told him about the taxes."
"I heard."
"Then he knew exactly what he was doing."
Darius did not answer immediately. He had learned to be careful with conclusions drawn before reviewing the record. He had also learned that sometimes the facts were so plain that calling them inconclusive became a way to avoid responsibility. "We need to look at the branch records," he said. "If he placed restrictions on your accounts, or if other customers were treated that way, there's more here than one cruel manager."
Loretta watched him fold the evidence sleeve into his briefcase. "And will you look at it fairly if the person who was hurt happens to be your mother?"
"I won't be the only person looking. I'll get independent counsel and the board's audit committee involved. They'll review my actions too."
She nodded, satisfied by the answer. "Good. I don't need special rules. I need the right rules."
The bus arrived. He reached for her arm to help her climb the steps, then remembered how much she disliked being treated as fragile. She took the handrail herself. Before the doors closed, she turned back and said, "You can be angry, Darius. Just don't let anger make you careless."
He stood on the pavement after the bus disappeared, carrying the advice she had given him in one form or another since childhood. Then he returned to the bank. From the outside, Harland Community Bank looked serene. Its brass plaque caught the light, the polished doors reflected passing clouds, and a printed sign advertised a new initiative for senior account holders. Darius stood before that sign and felt an unfamiliar embarrassment about the institution he led.
He entered as an ordinary customer and approached Nina's station. Harlon had retreated to his glass office and was laughing with someone on the telephone. Barnes glanced at Darius's plain jacket, apparently decided there was nothing about him worth inspecting, and went back to staring at the street.