“Brandon,” I said. “I’m going to sign something. I want you to watch.”
“What is it?”
“The future of account 0001.”
He went very still.
I picked up the pen. I signed my name. Dorothy Mae Whitaker.
Then I handed the pen to Danny, and he signed as a witness, and he stamped it with his notary seal.
Brandon was staring at the papers.
“Mrs. Whitaker,” he said slowly. “What did you just do?”
“I didn’t give it to you,” I said. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”
He let out a breath. I think he was relieved. I think he’d been terrified.
“I gave it to the town,” I said.
“The town?”
“The Millbrook Community Trust,” Danny said, sliding the papers back into his briefcase. “Dot created it last month. Account 0001, and all the rights that go with it, and the deed to the bank building, all go into the trust. The trust is managed by a board. Seven people. All Millbrook residents. They serve five-year terms. When one leaves, the others pick a replacement.”
