Page 75 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“Why? I’ve been in before. Usually I deposit money, but—”
“You don’t understand. When an account holder dies, bank policy dictates an immediate freeze on all funds until the probate judge issues instructions. Can you provide a copy of the signed order?”
Charlotte heard nothing after the wordsfreeze on all funds. “You’re correct. I don’t understand. We opened the account together. That’s my money too.”
“Mr. Sneed granted you authority over specific functions, but this was not a joint account, meaning, you didn’t have equal access or control. Were you married, perchance? Widows have certain rights.”
“We weren’t married,” she replied, concern about how she would manage the saloon without funds, rising rapidly. “This is absurd! I’ve always deposited funds without issue!”
“That was a function Mr. Sneed approved. However, his passing revokes prior approvals per our policy. The judge will—”
She raised her hand, stopping him, unable to listen to more blather about rules and policy. “I’ll just withdraw funds from my personal account.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment. “Uh…ma’am. That’s not possible either.”
“Why not?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“An unmarried woman cannot open an account.”
“I beg to differ.” She pointed at her bank book between them on the counter. “Right there it is?”
“The account ledger, please, George,” the manager said to the teller.
He had it ready and passed it to Mr. Simmons who folded the cover back and perused the first page. When he looked up at her, he delivered more bad news. “This too is— Excuse me, was, Mr. Sneed’s account.”
“But my name is on it,” she said, reaching across the counter to point it out. “See. It’s right there in black and white.”
“Alongside Mr. Sneed’s,” the man said with the utmost patience, which was beyond annoying. “It’s the same as the other account—with certain permissions granted to you. This should have been explained.”
“It wasn’t,” Charlotte snapped. “I remember your predecessor requiring Fen—Mr. Sneed—to sign for me when we opened it, but he was never involved afterward. I deposited money for years and years, and nobody mentioned this or even raised an eyebrow.” She gestured toward the teller. “George can vouch for that, since I always came to this window.”
“Deposits are allowed, ma’am,” Mr. Simmons clarified. “Withdrawals are something that would need Mr. Sneed’s signature.”
“He’s dead!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp with panic.
“Yes. I’m so sorry about that.”
“This can’t possibly be legal.”
He puffed out his chest, tugging at his vest again. “We follow the law and bank policy to the letter,” he declared. “I’m afraid there is nothing I can do without a judge’s order.”
“There is something I can do,” Charlotte retorted sharply. “I can consult with an attorney.”
“I was just about to suggest that,” Mr. Simmons said, sounding relieved. He glanced beyond Charlotte. “Now. If you don’t mind. There is a rather long line forming behind you.”
Furious, and feeling utterly helpless, Charlotte snatched back her bank book. A heavy silence encompassed the room, and she felt the weight of every eye upon her—every male eye—as she stormed out.
Violet caught up with her on the sidewalk where she paced in agitation.
“This is why I keep my hard-earned money in a coffee can under the floorboards,” her friend muttered.
“I can’t keep thousands of dollars in a can!” Charlotte snapped.
“Thousands?” Violet asked quietly. “How many are we talking about?”
“Tens of thousands.”
“Holy cow,” her friend whispered. “What now?”
