“Alzheimer’s?” she said calmly. “That’s interesting—because I remember very clearly working fourteen-hour days cleaning your grandfather’s office in 1955.”

The lobby went silent.

Charles stiffened. His family had owned the bank since 1932. Very few people knew personal details about his grandfather.

“Excuse me?” he said, suddenly unsure.

“You were fifteen,” Margaret continued. “I worked after school so my mother and I could eat. Your grandfather used to leave lit cigarettes on the marble floor, just to see if I’d complain.”

She met Charles’s eyes. “I never did. We needed the money.”

Janet swallowed hard.

“I remember him telling me people like me should be grateful to serve people like him,” Margaret added. “He said it was our place.”

She smiled sadly. “Funny how habits pass down through families, isn’t it, Mr. Hayes?”

Charles’s face flushed. Sweat gathered along his hairline.

“These are stories,” he muttered. “Anyone could make this up.”