“Please sign the signature cards here and here,” he pointed and Joy put down the cup again to carefully sign them as well.
“Here is your credit card and your debit check card. Fortunately, we can emboss them here,” he smiled, as though he were making a joke. When he saw that she didn’t understand, he explained, “We can make the raised print on the cards here in the bank itself.” He smiled again, trying not to make her uncomfortable. “That way, if there is ever a problem, we can issue you a card on the spot here in the bank. We want to be a full-service bank for you,” he put that in, hoping to plant it in her mind so she would keep the money in his bank. “Please sign the back of the cards here,” he pointed again. He licked his lips. “Now, I suggest you put the majority of the funds in this savings account,” he had a slip ready. “Do you know how much you want in your checking account?”
Joy shook her head. “I have no idea how much things are going to cost,” she began, starting to feel overwhelmed. She looked at him beseechingly. “Do you know how much I should put in there?”
He took pity on her. “Why don’t you put an even ten thousand in there and we can add more at any time. If you need to transfer more, please call me.” He put his business card on the pile of things he was accumulating for her.
“That sounds good,” she said, looking down and through her hair again. She clamped her hands between her knees again to stop their shaking. She was trying to make herself look small.
“Later, when all this hoopla dies down and you have a chance to take a breath, we can talk about investments with your money.”
She looked up at him suddenly. The man at the lottery had warned her about something like this. “Do you know the name of a financial advisor?” she asked, suddenly feeling a little braver.
He smiled, seeing she did have guts. “Why, yes, I do. I’ll give you the name of three. I suggest you make appointments with them all and interview them when you are ready.”
“That sounds good,” she told him, feeling a little better. Ten thousand dollars, that was a fortune. She shook herself. No, the three hundred and forty-one million was a fortune. She could hear her mother say, “An absolute fortune.” Suddenly, she felt that warm hand on her back again, supporting her. She recognized that sensation. She had felt it the night she bought the lottery ticket too.
Mr. Mueller quickly made the transaction and slid the slip across to her after it printed out. “This is the amount you have in your savings account, I put the ten thousand in your checking account. Anytime you need to transfer more, please call and I’ll arrange it. When you are ready, we will talk about other types of accounts, but I will wait until you have met with your advisor and gotten his or her suggestions.” He smiled. He was so pleased with how this had gone and he hoped Betsy would be back soon.
Joy carefully gathered the papers he was giving her, the checkbook and the precious credit and debit cards, then looked at her name on them, Joy Parker. She was a credit card-holding member of the human race. She smiled, but hid it under her stringy hair.
“Those are temporary checks. I can have fancier ones issued. Do you want me to have them printed and sent to your address?”
Joy looked up. “No, I won’t be staying there long,” she lied. She hadn’t lived there in a while.
“I imagine not,” he answered, having recognized the address, at least the area. He wouldn’t want anyone to live there. “I’ll have checks printed with just your name.” Many of their bigger depositors did the same, they didn’t want people getting their home addresses from their checks.
“Do you mind me asking what you intend to do?” He sat back in his chair, his transactions complete.
She looked up, shaking her head slightly to get her hair to part so she could see him. “I have no idea,” she admitted and they shared a laugh. “I couldn’t believe it was true. I can’t…” she began, gesturing at the pile of paperwork and he interrupted.
“Joy, you are a very wealthy young woman now. Use it wisely. I don’t know your story. I don’t need to know your story. I’m here to help you keep as much of that money as possible and I will help wherever I can. Contact these people,” he sat up and quickly pulled out his rolodex, paging through it. “Interview them, see which one you trust, maybe all of them.”
“Can I test them?” she wondered, realizing she had money to play with and even if one of them screwed up and lost her money, she’d still have more.
“Yes, and that’s a good idea,” he complimented her. “You can live on the interest alone for years and it will compound,” he saw her look of confusion. “You earn interest on the interest.” She nodded, catching on. “But these people will help you invest it wisely so you never have to want again.” He sincerely doubted anyone could go through that kind of money, but he had heard stories.
“How do I keep out of the way of those reporters?” she asked, suddenly worrying again.
“Well, you won’t be able to for long. I would suggest going to a nice hotel for a while and showering or bathing,” he tried not to make it sound like anything other than a friendly suggestion. “You have a lot to think about, Ms. Parker, and some of the decisions won’t be easy.” He tried to give her fatherly advice, but he was only about fourteen years older than her. “I’d lay low for a few days as they get your name and plaster it all over.”
“They don’t know what I look like,” she said as though that would save her.
“They’ll get your DMV picture,” he indicated her driver’s license.
She looked towards her sock where she had replaced it and thought about the horrible, but recognizable picture. That was not going to be attractive.
“Here’s Betsy with some clothes for you. I would also suggest, after you feel well enough to come out of that hotel room, you shop for a few things…maybe a few outfits?”
“Do you know where I should go?” she asked as the teller came rushing into the room with a couple of plastic bags over her arm.
“That depends on what you are looking for. That money can buy you a whole new lifestyle. You could choose to dress from Kmart, there is nothing wrong with it. If you want something a little more upscale, I’d suggest you go to the Grand Avenue Mall and go into a few of the stores and find a style that suits you.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun,” gushed Betsy. “I got you a pair of jeans. I guessed at the color of the blouse, but this should tide you over until you can shop for more.” She showed her a pair of Levi jeans, a nice button-down blouse, a three-pack of panties, another of socks, and a pair of sports shoes that were the whitest Joy had seen in a long time.
“You can change in our bathroom, Ms. Parker. No one will mind,” Mr. Mueller offered generously.
“I got you a small purse. I guessed you weren’t big on those,” Betsy said as she showed her the small billfold.
Joy smiled at her. “Thank you, Betsy. That was very kind and thoughtful of you.” Her parents may be gone, but they had instilled manners in her long ago. She carefully pulled the stuffing out of the purse and put her credit card in one of the slots, her bank card in another, her checkbook in another, the plastic sheet going between the first and the second check, so it hung and could be written on.
“Here,” Mr. Mueller handed her one of the nicer bank pens to put in the little loop that the purse provided.
“Thank you,” she said, enjoying the gifts. Next, she reached into her sock for her license and it soon joined the cards, only she put it so the little window showed her face from the driver’s license. That was it. She didn’t need anything else in the little purse.
“Here, these are yours,” Mr. Mueller slid the little stack of paperwork across the desk and watched as she folded all the papers in three and then slid them in the purse.
“I guess I better change,” she said gruffly, not sure what else to do, but clutching the purse to her for all it was worth.
“Let me show you where,” Betsy offered and carried the bags for her. She handed them to J
oy as she went into the bank restroom. “If you need anything else, let me know.” She smiled as the smelly woman, a girl really, passed her. She hurried back to Mr. Mueller’s office. “Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, thank you, Betsy. You really went above and beyond and I’m sure Ms. Parker will remember that.” He looked up from the paperwork he was going over for the third time, making sure he hadn’t screwed anything up with Joy Parker’s accounts. It was too important and far too much money for mistakes at this point. He knew she was overwhelmed. Who wouldn’t be?
Joy quickly changed into the clothes Betsy had bought her. This time, the jeans were a little bigger, but they fit better on her frame. The underwear was nicer than her own cotton that had been worn far too long. She wrinkled her own nose as she shoved the old clothes into one of the bags, intending to discard them at her first opportunity. Then she rethought that and decided to wash them and donate them. After all, someone had done that for her. Then she looked at the rips in the socks and how badly soiled the clothes were and decided once again to simply discard her old clothing. She washed her hands in the sink, twice, and still some of the grime wouldn’t come off. She washed her face and, using her fingers, combed back her hair. She didn’t want to use the brush and comb that Betsy had purchased along with shampoo and conditioner until she got a hotel room. She looked at her teeth for the first time in a long time and carefully brushed them, her gums bleeding from the effort. They felt odd to her tongue, slick and free of sleep or anything else. She determined to brush them daily. They still looked pretty good, not all brown or falling out like many other undernourished street people. She felt good too, realizing that she could afford to take better care of herself now. The shoes looked glaringly bright and she determined she was not a person that would normally wear completely white sports shoes, but she did like the little swish of grey-blue that the manufacturer put on each side of the shoe. They felt odd on her feet, a little large, but the comfortable and thick, new socks made a difference.
Joy looked up in the mirror. She could see her hair needed washing, and badly. She’d have to do something about that first thing. First, she had to pay for the things Betsy had purchased. She stuffed her old things in one bag, being sure to empty her pockets. She looked at her new purse, feeling self-conscious about owning one. She could see it was not expensive or anything, but it would get her by, and after never using one before, she’d have to get used to it. She opened the bathroom door, her stomach grumbling, telling her she better eat soon, and returned to Mr. Mueller’s office.
“There she is,” he said, rising from his chair and greeting his new favorite customer. He could see the clothes made a marked improvement. He wondered how much of the stink had been from the clothes and how much from her person.
“I owe Betsy for the clothes,” she began hesitantly, but he waved her off.
“It’s on the bank,” he told her. “Do you need a recommendation for a hotel?”
She bit her lip and then nodded.
“Well, you can afford places like the Pfister or the Ambassador,” he noticed the alarm in her eyes, which was immediate, so he continued, “I’d suggest a Motel 6 or a Super 8 until you are more comfortable.” Joy calmed immediately in relief. “Also, Betsy forgot to get you a jacket, so I suggested we use one of the bank jackets they give us,” he said almost apologetically as he gestured to the corduroy jacket with the bank’s emblem emblazoned on the front pocket. “It should keep you warm until you can purchase another.”
Joy smiled her thanks and tried on the light tan jacket. It was a little large, but better than anything she had owned in quite some time. It actually looked okay with her jeans and sports shoes. He was right, she would have frozen without her sweatshirt outside in the snow and wind.
“I can call you a taxi to take you to your hotel,” he offered solicitously, wondering what her next step would be. He hoped it would be to go to a hotel and shower. Although she had changed, he could still smell an odor that was not pleasant and he was not sure if it was coming from the bag she was holding or her person. Still, he plastered his smile on his face and fixed it there for her.
“That would be nice,” she said politely, feeling awkward at the fuss being made over her.
He quickly called a number on his rolodex. “They said someone will be out front in five minutes,” he told her.
She nodded, not sure what to do and holding her bags awkwardly.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Parker?” he asked, not sure how to end this meeting.
“How do I get some cash?” she asked, knowing she would need some.
“You can use that bank card to withdraw some, like at an ATM,” he explained and gestured her out of his office to show her. “You can also write a check for cash at any of our branches.” He escorted her to the ATM and showed her how to use it. “I used today’s date for your pin if that’s okay,” he explained quietly.
Joy caught on, and using the date was fine by her. She tried it twice to be sure she understood how to work it. Putting the cash she withdrew into her purse gave her immense satisfaction. She really wanted to stuff it into the front pocket of her new jeans, but thought he wouldn’t approve and stopped herself. “Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Mueller,” she told him as she shook his hand and headed outside to the waiting taxi.
“Anytime, Ms. Parker. If you need anything, you have my card,” he reminded her, hoping they would keep her account in their bank. He wondered how soon his superiors would hear about their windfall. Landing the lottery winner was surely a coup, even though he guessed she’d just randomly chosen their bank. Still, he smiled as he escorted her to the door and opened it for her. He continued to smile as he saw her stuff her bag of clothing firmly in a garbage bin on the sidewalk before she headed for the waiting taxi.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Where to, Miss?” the man asked her.
“Is there a Motel 6 or Super 8 nearby?” she asked, trying not be alarmed at his gruff voice. She was feeling a little shaky and her nerves were already fried.
“Yes, there’s one just down the street,” he said, disappointed that his fare was not going to be larger.
“Thank you, take me there,” she requested politely.
He nodded, engaged the meter, and pulled out carefully into traffic. He glanced at her repeatedly in the rearview mirror, wondering about her. Her hair looked greasy and unkempt, not at all like the nice jacket she was wearing. She looked nervous and frail. She was probably some drug addict he concluded as he drove to the motel. Pulling into the lot, the fare was a mere three dollars, but he was surprised when she pulled out a ten dollar bill and told him to, “Keep the change,” as she got out of his cab with her plastic bag. He watched as she hurried into the office and then put the taxi in gear and left.
“Hello, how can I help you today?” the man behind the counter greeted Joy.
“I’d like a room,” she said, trying to sound confident.
“Check in time is at three,” he told her.
“Surely you have a clean room by now?” she gestured at the building above them.
“Of course,” he said, wondering if she could pay. Her stringy hair was decidedly unkempt and he could see she had no luggage. “Will that be for one night or two?”
“Let’s plan for two and possibly more,” she said as she pulled her credit card out and then her driver’s license, knowing she needed identification in this kind of hotel. The hotels downtown didn’t care who you were since they rented by the hour and demanded cash.
In no time at all, she had a room. The credit card worked beautifully and Joy had a card to her room. Having never used a card on a door before, she was unsure about it at first. Still, the directions on the card were clear enough and she read it on the elevator ride up. It took her two tries to get the green light and she laughed at the novelty of it. Locking the door behind her with a deadbolt, she leaned against it, realizing she was in a nicer hotel than ever bef
ore in her life. Hell, the room was nicer than the apartment she had stayed in. Remembering her things in the floor of that apartment made her angry. She wondered how she would retrieve them. Her parent’s picture, her birth certificate and social security card, as well as a few other odds and ends, were important to her. She pushed the thought aside for now. They were safe and no one knew about the loose floorboard, at least she hoped no one did. She put her bag on the dresser, tried out the bed, and began to strip off her new clothes. First, she took a shower, washing out her stringy hair, and then a long, hot bath. She felt pruney afterwards, but clean…oh, so clean. She even liked the shampoo and soap Betsy had chosen for her. She repeatedly smelled her skin. The long, hot soak even got her hands clean. Only a few remnants of grease or stains remained around her nails.
Joy was not sure what to do after she bathed. She looked around the room, which contained a queen-sized bed and hesitantly crawled under the sheets, her head wrapped in a towel. She got back out of the bed and pulled the towel off. She used the hairbrush on her head first. The conditioner had left it soft and easy to manage. It had been too stringy to knot up and now it felt fine…and smooth for the first time in a long time. She smiled at her naked self in the mirror as she pulled the brush through her hair. She looked at herself critically. Her blonde hair looked normal for the first time. She had no smudge marks on her high cheek bones. Pale blue eyes looked out under dark eyelashes. Her eyebrows were a pale shade of blonde. She smiled, showing even white teeth against her lips, which weren’t too thin. She decided she had inherited her mom’s long narrow nose.
It suddenly occurred to Joy how exhausted she was from the morning’s activities. She was hungry, starving actually, but she’d gone without food for long periods before and the bed looked inviting. She debated…food first or sleep first? She decided food would be a better idea and got dressed again, realizing this outfit was the first new outfit she had had in a long time. Betsy had chosen something nice, but not so nice that she would feel uncomfortable in it. The only thing that made her feel uncomfortable was the bank jacket. It was rather expensive looking, but at least it was warm. She was going to need more clothes, nicer clothes, and shopping was in order. Still, Joy was not sure that she wanted to shop. Those people had been mean to her, but that was when she was dressed as a street person. She looked in the mirror when she was dressed again and decided the street person was gone. Still, she would remember how they treated her and she had a long memory for such things.
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