Resisting Ryder(63)

“May I help you?” the teller asked in a flat tone as she looked Stormy up and down.

“Yes,” Stormy said. Her mouth was dry and her hands trembled. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous, and she didn’t even know where to begin. “I needed to check into an account that was under my late husband’s name.”

“What’s the name?” the teller asked.

“His name was Jett Jacks,” she said. She hated saying the word “was”.

“I.D.?” the teller asked.

Stormy’s fingers fumbled around her wallet as she pulled out her driver’s license which clearly stated that her name was “Stormy Jacks.”

The teller typed in a few things on the keyboard and clicked a couple spots on the screen with her mouse. She picked up her phone and dialed someone and mumbled a few inaudible words.

“We’re going to have you meet with one of our personal bankers,” the teller said with an odd smile. She couldn’t even bring herself to take her eyes off the screen.

Stormy wondered if she was in trouble or if Misty had her account flagged or frozen.

“Mrs. Jacks?” she heard a man’s voice say. She turned to see a tall, slender, gray-haired gentleman in a navy blue suit and red striped tie standing in the lobby. “This way, please.”

His smile was nice, but he still made her nervous. She could feel her brow sweating and her heart was racing as she followed him to his office.

“Please, have a seat,” he said as he motioned to a chair and closed the door. “Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?”

“No, thank you,” she said. She was too scared to even think about drinking anything.

“Let me just pull you up here,” he said as he clicked around on his computer. “There we go.”

Stormy sat up straight in the chair and crossed her arms as she waited for him to say something.

“So,” he began. “You are what we call a Platinum Customer.”

“I am?” Stormy asked, puzzled. She felt a wave of relief rushing over her the minute she realized this private meeting was a good thing.

“Your husband left a pretty sizable account here, and you’re listed as his beneficiary,” he said. “Were you aware of that?”

“No,” Stormy said. “I wasn’t. I knew he had something here, but we never discussed dollar amounts.”

The banker turned his screen to show her and pointed to a little box that held the numbers: $397,699.08.

Stormy about fainted when she saw that Jett had left her an account with almost four hundred thousand dollars in it. She gripped onto the sides of the chair and repositioned herself as she cleared her throat. The banker could sense that she was uncomfortable.

“You really had no idea this account existed?” he asked, bewildered.

“No,” she said with a gulp. She couldn’t bring herself to say any more than that.

“Well, it’s all there,” he said. “Earning interest daily I might add. We have it enrolled in our highest yielding savings account, reserved only for our Platinum Customers.”

“So no one can take that money?” Stormy asked. “Like his mom?”

The banker looked confused. “No, you are his beneficiary. You are entitled to the full amount unless otherwise specified in his will.”

Stormy thought for a while and realized that if Misty had the chance to wipe the account clean, she would’ve done so two months ago when Jett first died. There’s no way she would’ve left that money just sitting there for the taking.

“If you want, we can have you talk to an investment banker,” the president stated. “We could get some good investments going and you could eventually live very comfortably off the interest of that money.”

“Thanks for the offer,” she said. “I need to do some thinking. Can you guarantee that no one can touch this money for now?”

“We can freeze the account if you want. Or we can split it into another account,” he said.

“Can you move it into an account that’s solely in my name?” she asked. Jett left her that money for a reason. He promised her she’d always be taken care of. It wasn’t even about the money for her, it was about creating a new life. This was a gift from Jett, and she was going to travel the world with it one way or another. She’d be damned if she let Misty even have a chance at taking it back. She had already taken enough from her. If Misty got any whiff of this money, she’d be knocking on Stormy’s door every day needing something.

“That we can do,” the banker said. He seemed pleasant and non-judgmental, and she appreciated that. He grabbed a logoed pen and an application and sat it on the desk in front of her.