I taught him how to spot a counterfeit bill by the texture of the paper. I stayed late with him countless times, painstakingly auditing his drawer until we found the missing pennies or misplaced checks.

I championed him. I protected him. Today, that skinny, terrified college boy is the regional vice president of the entire tri-state area.

Friday morning arrived crisp and clear. I dressed impeccably. I wore my favorite navy blazer, a string of pearls my late husband gave me, and sensible shoes. I arrived at the branch at exactly 8:45 AM, fifteen minutes before they opened to the public, knowing the staff would be having their morning huddle.

I tapped my house key against the glass door until the security guard—a man I hired twenty years ago—recognized me and let me in with a warm hug. I bypassed the teller line entirely and took a seat in the comfortable waiting area directly outside Brad’s glass office.

I placed my pocketbook on my knees, folded my hands over it, and waited. Brad was inside his office, sipping coffee. He saw me sitting there and his face immediately hardened. I could see the irritation radiating off him. He probably assumed I was there to cry, to beg for my money, or to make a scene that he could gracefully shut down to prove his authority.

He picked up his desk phone, likely to tell the security guard to escort me out when the doors opened. But before he could dial, the heavy front doors swung open again. In walked Douglas. He wasn’t skinny anymore. He filled out his expensive tailored suit perfectly, his hair graying slightly at the temples.

He carried a leather briefcase and an air of absolute, unquestionable authority.

The entire branch seemed to stand a little straighter when he crossed the threshold. Brad practically sprinted out of his office, his face plastered with a desperate, eager-to-please smile. “Douglas! Sir! Welcome to the branch.

I have the quarterly reports all ready for your review in my office.” Douglas nodded politely, shaking Brad’s hand. “Thank you, Brad. I’ll be right with you.” Douglas turned his head to survey the lobby, and that’s when his eyes landed on me. I hadn’t moved.

I just sat there, looking up at him. For a second, the regional vice president froze. Then, his eyes went wide, his professional facade completely melted away, and a massive, boyish grin spread across his face. He dropped his expensive briefcase directly onto the floor, ignoring the loud thud it made, and walked briskly over to me.

“Mrs. Higgins?” he said, his voice thick with genuine emotion. “Annella? Is that really you?” “Hello, Dougie,” I said softly. I was the only person in the world who could call him that, and we both knew it. He leaned down and gave me a massive, crushing hug.

“It has been far too long,” he said, pulling back to look at me. “You look exactly the same.