Chapter 4: Mr. Pierce Will See You
"Mr. Pierce will see you," Derek said, his voice thinner than he intended. "In the private suite, Ms. Wexford. Follow me, please."
Nora rose beside Counter Nine and picked up her old leather document case. "Thank you. Lead the way."
He led her past the nine brass counters to a paneled door with a brass plate and a keypad. Inside, thick carpet, low lamps, a table polished to a reflection.
"Please sit," Derek said. "Coffee? Water?"
"No, thank you," Nora said. She sat nearest the door, case on her knees. "Will he be long?"
Derek smiled and did not answer. He stood by the door as if told to wait there.
The door opened with a soft click.
"Ms. Wexford," the man said. "What an unexpected pleasure."
Gordon Pierce entered, hand extended, suit immaculate, smile practiced and warm, silver at the temples, moving as if the room had been arranged for him.
"Nora Wexford," she said, rising. His grip was firm and brief. "Thank you for seeing me."
"Please, sit," he said. "Derek, coffee for our guest, and close the door behind you."
The dismissal was courteous and complete. Derek left, and the door shut softly.
Pierce sat across from her. "I am Gordon Pierce, regional manager. I personally look after accounts of significance."
"For clients of a certain standing, this bank is a conversation," he said. "Built on discretion and relationships."
"I waited twelve minutes at the counter," Nora said. "Then Mr. Lawson served me."
Something flickered behind the smile. "My apologies for the wait. Derek says you wish to deposit a certified check."
"I do," Nora said. "Six point four million dollars, drawn on First Lakeshore Bank, made out to me personally. He has seen it."
"May I ask why in person?" Pierce said. "Most clients arrange a transfer."
"I prefer paper I can hold," Nora said. "And I chose this bank on purpose."
"You chose us," he repeated, pleased. "Why?"
"Family history," Nora said.
That was when his smile changed. It stayed where it was, but the warmth left it. His eyes moved, quick and assessing, to her worn gray coat and back to her face.
"Wexford," he said slowly. "Any relation to our founder? Arthur Wexford?"
"He was my grandfather," Nora said.
"Of course," Pierce said. "Michael Wexford was your father, then."
"He was," Nora said. "He died three years ago."
"I knew your father," Pierce said, and the courtesy had glass in it. "We did not always agree, but I respected him. My condolences."
Derek knocked, entered with a tray, set coffee before her on a white saucer, and withdrew without a word.
"I did not ask for coffee," Nora said mildly.
"Hospitality," Pierce said. "Please, drink. Our private blend."
Nora did not touch it. Steam rose in the still air.
"As you wish," Pierce said. "Your check, then. A certified check is a sound instrument. Normally verification is a formality."
"Normally," Nora repeated.
"The amount requires care," he said. "Federal requirements, internal controls, source of funds."
"Your background is finance," Pierce said. "Your folder was complete."
"It is," Nora said. "Certification, estate letter, identification, proof of address. Everything he asked for."
"Then this should be simple," Pierce said. "I will personally expedite the verification. You have my word it will not sit in a queue."
"Expedited," Nora said. "What does that mean, in days?"
"We move as quickly as the process allows," Pierce said. "My name goes on the file today. If anything is needed, we will call you directly."
"And the funds will be available when?" Nora asked.
"Once verification is complete," he said. "I would not promise a date and disappoint you."
"No," Nora said. "It would be a promise."
Pierce laughed, a short polished sound. "Your grandfather believed a bank is a promise you keep in public. We try to live by it."
He rose, ending the meeting. "Leave the documents with Derek, and we begin at once. I will see you are looked after. A personal assurance."
"Thank you," Nora said, standing. "I will hold you to the spirit of it."
At the door he paused. "Is this connected to other business? The Foundation, or family matters?"
"Today it is a deposit," Nora said. "That is the whole story, Mr. Pierce."
"The whole story," he said. "Simplicity is best." He opened the door himself. "Derek will show you out."
In the corridor Derek waited, trying not to look as if he had been listening. Nora stopped beneath her grandfather's portrait, took out the small green notebook, and wrote.
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"His exact words," Nora said, and wrote them with the date and time: expedited verification. Personal assurance. As quickly as the process allows.
She closed the notebook. Behind the closed door, the coffee sat untouched, going cold.