I looked at the number on the screen.
And suddenly remembered the day Mom told me the account had been “fully used.”
Except according to the document in my hand, the withdrawals hadn’t gone where she said they had.
They had gone to Madison.
And the amount was far more than I had ever been told.
I stared at the account number until the digits blurred.
The music from the dance floor was still playing.
People were laughing near the bar.
Someone dropped a fork at another table.
But inside the small circle around us, it felt like the entire vineyard had gone silent.
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