"You thought it was a reason to get it done while I was in a meeting in Chicago."
"You are always in a meeting in Chicago."
"Stop," Arthur said again, but it was quieter, and it did not stop them so much as mark the place where they might have stopped if they had been other people.
Denise opened her folder at last. The papers inside were copies. Ruth saw her own name in a typeface that made it look like a person who paid bills on time. She saw Caleb's. She saw Arthur's. She saw Helen's, still, on an old sheet that had been stamped CLOSED in a red that had faded to the color of a barn.
"The March card was taken by an officer who has since retired," Denise said. "It's imaged. The Thursday card was taken by Brett Lang, at the platform, not in this room. Also imaged. Both are in the system. That's the problem. The system was supposed to flag the second as a replacement. It flagged it as an addition and then, overnight, as a conflict. Nobody moved funds. I want to say that clearly. Nothing has been taken out. The accounts are restricted until we resolve the signer. Bills that are already automatic will still pay. Anything else waits."
Ruth thought of the property tax draft she had set for the twelfth. She did not say it. Saying it would sound like the money was the point, and the money was the point and was not the point, and she was too tired to survive that sentence in front of Caleb.
"How long," Caleb said.
"A few days if Mr. Ellery can tell us, in his own words, what he wants now. Longer if he can't, or if either of you contests capacity on either date. You can contest. I'm not advising you. I'm telling you the door exists. If you open it, lawyers come in, and this table gets smaller."