Buch lesen: «Wonders Of The Heart»
Spring wished she had artistic talent. She’d love to capture Chad on paper as he looked this very moment.
His hair reflected golden streaks under the lamplight, and the shadowed light gave his nose strength while it softened the tired lines around his mouth. An unexpected tenderness crept over her; she wanted so badly to smooth those lines away, to feel the texture of his skin beneath her fingers.
The man needed to go to bed…to sleep solidly until morning. It couldn’t hurt to merely suggest he call it a night.
She lowered herself beside him, keeping her focus squarely on his face. She leaned forward to place her hand on his shoulder. His soft breath brushed her skin, sending a quiver up her arm.
RUTH SCOFIELD
became serious about writing after she’d raised her children. Until then, she’d concentrated her life on being a June Cleaver–type wife and mother, spent years as a Bible student and teacher for teens and young adults and led a weekly women’s prayer group. When she’d made a final wedding dress and her last child had left the nest, she declared to one and all that it was her turn to activate a dream. Thankfully, her husband applauded her decision.
Ruth began school in an old-fashioned rural two-room schoolhouse and grew up in the days before television, giving substance to her notion that she still has one foot in the last century. However, active involvement with six rambunctious grandchildren has her eagerly looking forward to the next millennium. After living on the East Coast for years, Ruth and her husband now live in Missouri.
Wonders of the Heart
Ruth Scofield
MILLS & BOON
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But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness,
and all these things will be given to you as well.
—Matthew 6:33
Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and
certain of what we do not see. This is what the
ancients were commended for.
—Hebrews 11:1–2
To the BICC gang.
May you all continue long and creatively
as each of you balance life with gracious dedication
to love, family, your talent and our Father.
And to my daughters, Karen, Laura and Lisa,
who do the same. God bless you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Letter to Reader
Chapter One
Chad Alexander unlocked the door and entered his apartment. Too tired and hungry for comfort, he wondered if there was anything edible left in his kitchen. He should’ve swallowed his distaste for airport food, he guessed now, and grabbed something before starting for home. He didn’t think he had any energy left to visit Harry’s Grill, the closest place where he could order a decent meal.
He listened for his sister, Honor Suzanne.
On first observation, the apartment was fairly quiet. A CD played. He recognized the music only as a classical piece. One table lamp shed a narrow stream of light from the living room.
He set his bags down in the foyer, habit making him glance at the hall table for any mail that had caught up to him. Picking up the half-dozen on top, he stepped from the hall into the living room.
A blur of dark diaphanous skirts flashed by him in a whirl, bringing him up short. A pale bare foot paused, burrowing deep into the smooth off-white carpet, while its mate rose eye-high, arched and pointy-toed. Shapely arms reached high, fingers poised in a graceful arch. Ever slowly, the head bent backward on a delicate neck. Dark locks swung free of the dancer’s shoulders creating a graceful motion into the air.
Caught up in the beauty of the dancer, he could only stare for a long moment. This wasn’t his sister.
Spotting him, the young woman returned his look from upside down and froze. “Oh! Oh, my!” She righted herself instantly and spun to glare at him. “Who are you?”
A moment before, he’d thought her to be a friend of his sister’s, but now he revised his opinion. She was older than fourteen-year-old Honor Suzanne by a good five years.
“I may well ask you the same,” he said with sudden suspicion. What was this young woman doing here? Was she a neighbor? A dance teacher? He hadn’t authorized the expenditure, though he had no objection.
“I live here,” she answered, her blue-green eyes taking on a suspicious glint of their own.
He saw her gaze run over his unshaven jaw and wrinkled sport coat, giving him the impression she evaluated him with a decisive checklist in mind.
“How did you get in? I can call Security, you know.”
“That isn’t necessary,” he muttered, letting irony lace his words. If he’d been a burglar or otherwise bad guy, her actions held all the intimidation of a mouse’s. “I have a key.”
“You do?”
“I do. Where’s Mrs. Hinkle?”
“Who?”
He hardened his jaw, as her gaze went a little wider. Did she think he’d buy that innocent act? What was she trying to pull? Some kind of scam? Something was definitely out of kilter here. “Mrs. Hinkle. Where is she?”
“Um.” She pursed her nicely shaped lips into a pretty pout. “Sir, are you sure you have the right apartment? Perhaps—”
Just a shade too polite. Not a New Yorker. She was a good actress, he’d give her that.
Was that it? Was she one of the many young things who came to New York every year hoping to break into theater, and she’d conned her way into his household?
“Uh-uh. You can’t pull that.” His irritation boiled to the surface and he stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “This is my apartment.”
“I think, sir—” She retreated, two spots of color blossoming in her cheeks. Her gaze never wavered from his face as she fumbled behind her for the phone lying on the shadowed lamp table. “—that you should identify yourself immediately, or I will call Security.”
“That’s an excellent idea, missy. Call Security. And you may identify yourself! And tell me where my sister is,” he demanded, his tone harsh and threatening. “Explain what you’ve done with her.”
“Chad!” Honor Suzanne shouted behind him. She quickly stepped around and into the room to stand beside the young woman. “Here I am—don’t get yourself into a twist. Nothing’s wrong.”
“Honor,” he croaked. He waited a moment to let his pounding heart slow down. “It’s about time you made an appearance. I thought— I was beginning to think the worst.”
“Well, there isn’t a worst. At least, not now,” Honor insisted. “This is Spring. And you don’t have to scare us out of our back teeth. It’s late and you’re home early. We didn’t expect you till next week.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, glancing at his watch. Ten o’clock wasn’t late by New York standards. Unclenching his hands, he twitched a shoulder in irritation. Why should he apologize for coming home at any time he chose?
Spring continued to stare at him, eyes wide, then she abruptly caught her breath as though breaking a spell.
“Chad.” Her color spread into her hairline. “Of course. I should’ve known. I’m so sorry. I’m the one to apologize, and I do so humbly. You obviously didn’t remember about me being here. I’m Spring Barbour.”
She thrust her hand forward in a rather formal offer to shake hands. He took it slowly, enveloping her slender fingers and palm in his for a required moment. He felt the delicate bones beneath, and slid a thumb across warm skin.
“I don’t recall being told of your presence at all,” he murmured.
“Oh, really?” she said with a slight frown in Honor Suzanne’s direction. “Sorry. I suppose that information must have been lost along the way? But you don’t look like those snapshots Honor has of you, do you? Not much, anyway. My goodness, they must’ve been taken ages ago. Otherwise, I would’ve recognized you right off. You should have something professionally done, really.”
She dropped his hand, leaving his palm with a sense of loss. “But it doesn’t matter now…” She trailed off.
Good. She’d hushed. He’d begun to think she never breathed. Yet her voice was soft, with a gentle accent.
He glanced at his sister, wondering about her choice in friends. At twenty years her senior, he didn’t know much about teenagers, and supposed he’d have to study a bit to get up to speed.
Spring moved to turn off the CD player, her midnight blue skirts, made of some floaty material, dancing around her ankles. Raveling threads tickled her toes. He noticed for the first time that the hem wasn’t stitched. He’d already noted she had only one sleeve in the top, the neckline slanting to reveal a graceful white throat. Her dark hair fell like feathers against her bare shoulders.
“That’s a long ride in from the airport, isn’t it?” she picked up again as she turned back. “What time did you land?”
“Couple of hours ago,” he muttered, wondering who and what she was. He still wanted to know where Mrs. Hinkle had gone, thinking the woman had better have a doggone excellent excuse for allowing this young person to move into his apartment.
Where was the girl sleeping? He’d had to give up his den to accommodate the housekeeper. Another body in his apartment would put a big crunch in his life, on his space. And privacy. He had enough adjustments to face as it was.
“I’ll just bet you’re hungry,” Spring continued. “Did you have anything? No? Honor, did you finish that English paper?”
“Uh-huh. Eight pages,” Honor said, looking pleased. “It’s much better now, since you showed me where I missed my theme. Bound to pull an A.”
“Good. Then you can start the tea kettle while I change. I’ll only be a minute. Chad, why don’t you go on into the kitchen with Honor, and I’ll be there in a minute to find something for you to eat.”
“You will?” Why should she? He could take care of himself. And he wasn’t a guest!
And where was that blasted housekeeper?
But his words only trailed her, as Spring disappeared down the hall. He turned to his sister. “Where’s Mrs. Hinkle?”
“Um, Chad…” Honor laid a hand on his arm, anxiously coaxing him past the dining room alcove and into the kitchen. “Mrs. Hinkle isn’t here.”
“I can see that.” The dining alcove was a mess. The table was covered with some of the same dark cloth Spring wore, and a sewing machine sat at the end. Scraps and loose threads lay on the floor. He yanked his gaze back to his sister’s face. “Where is she?”
“I fired her.”
“Excuse me?” He halted in the middle of the small kitchen, realizing that something had changed there, but unable to give it the attention it deserved in the face of Honor Suzanne’s news. “You can’t be serious.”
“Well, I am. I did. I hired Spring, instead.”
“You what?” He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. No one in their right mind would allow a fourteen-year-old to hire or fire an employee. What had the employment agency said? Who had she talked with?
“I hired Spring…”
“How could you? What about the employment agency?”
“They didn’t have much to say about it after the letter I wrote. I didn’t like Mrs. Hinkle.”
“Now wait a minute. You wrote a letter to the agency? Why, what was the need?”
“I told you, I didn’t like Mrs. Hinkle.”
“You said nothing before I left about not liking Mrs. Hinkle. Why didn’t you inform me? Talk to me? And merely not liking her isn’t enough reason to take such drastic action.”
“I tried to talk to you once, but…” Honor turned away to fill an enameled tea kettle he’d never seen with bottled water, before setting it on a burner. “Well, you were so busy, and, anyway, I didn’t know about Mrs. Hinkle until after you left.”
The mild statement, carrying a good degree of guilt, hit him straight between the eyes. He hadn’t heard Honor because he’d been too busy to listen to her teenage twaddle.
He hid his sense of frustration, and mentally chided himself. He might not have been eager to take Honor Suzanne into his life, but he’d had no other choice when she’d become so depressed after their father died, only two years after Honor’s mother had passed away. Now he was all she had, her only living relative.
He ran a hand against his jaw and turned away to shed his jacket. True, he’d been too involved in getting his last-minute arrangements in place for an extended absence to interview many candidates. It all had happened at once; Honor coming to live with him as he was preparing for a working trip through several European countries.
“Tell me why you didn’t like Mrs. Hinkle,” he said, pulling out one of two kitchen chairs at the tiny table meant for one. “She came well recommended by the agency. Couldn’t you have lived with your dislike until I got home?”
“No, I couldn’t. She was impossible. And I don’t know why they recommended her,” she muttered. “She steals.”
“Steals?” He frowned, silently questioning how such a woman could have gotten past the agency screening. “Are you sure? Could you have misinterpreted something you saw?”
“No, I didn’t, Chad.”
She thrust out her small chin, reminding him of her mother, Sandra. He hadn’t liked Sandra.
“I saw her going through your desk,” Honor insisted.
“I left my desk double-locked.” Uneasiness began to set in. He didn’t keep a lot of important papers in his home office unless he was working there, but he still didn’t like the idea of anything being disturbed. He did keep a list of his private bank numbers and associated interactions in a notebook in the bottom drawer, but it would have to be an experienced thief to take advantage of the coded knowledge.
He’d check his desk contents before going to bed, but said now, “Well, there isn’t anything of movable cash value in there, anyway. And I left the household funds in a special account. Mrs. Hinkle only had to charge anything else you needed.”
“Well, she pried the desk open,” Honor insisted. She reached for a pig-faced cookie jar, half-filled, which he’d never seen. “In fact, you can see scratches on the brass key holes, if you look closely.”
Frowning, he rubbed the base of his neck where a headache was forming. The problem was more serious than he’d thought. “What did you do? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t think I should bother you with it, Chad. You said you wouldn’t have time to keep track of what’s going on at home. Uncle Walter and Mr. Lester took care of it.”
Walter Peebles, his father’s friend and accountant, and Lester Brown, their building super. He’d have a long talk with Lester first thing in the morning. Right before he called the agency.
He’d reach Walter before he went to bed.
“Didn’t want to be bothered?” Guilt nearly choked him now; he had said it. He’d failed royally as a brother. “Honor, I merely meant I wouldn’t have time for, um—uh-oh, stuff it. I’d have taken time to deal with this problem, whatever it was.”
He took a cookie from the plate Honor set on the table. Home-baked oatmeal, a longtime favorite.
“But you said you were really, really busy on this trip and for me not to expect a lot of communication from you since you’d be moving around a lot,” Honor persisted, half-accusing.
She poured boiling water into an old, crackled ceramic teapot and covered it with a bright red cover. The teapot was another item he didn’t remember.
“You couldn’t come home till your business was finished, that’s what you said.”
She set out three china cups; at last, something he recognized. Vaguely. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d entertained at home, but he thought those to be the ones his girlfriend of two years ago had purchased for him.
Honor set out a small jar of honey, and spoons. “So I decided to handle it myself. And I had Dana’s help.”
“Who’s Dana?”
“Dana Bates. My minister’s wife. She knows about these things, Chad, and she helped me find Spring.”
“Hmmm… A minister and his wife.” He rubbed his jaw, then ran his hand against the back of his head, while visions of smug, do-gooding people marched through his thoughts. That’s all he needed—interference from another direction. He’d had enough of that from well-meaning old family friends after his father died, leaving his estate in a mess.
He probably should put this off until he’d had some sleep; after all, Honor was safe and sound, and he couldn’t pursue an investigation on anything stolen until morning. But…he wouldn’t.
“All right.” He let his breath out on a long-suffering note. “Tell me about Spring. Last name. Who is she? Where is she from? Where did you find her? What are her references? And how old is she?”
Chapter Two
“My name is Spring Eve Barbour, and I do assure you, Mr. Alexander, I’m a very reputable person.”
Spring stood in the kitchen doorway, addressing Chad formally, letting him in on her awareness of the seriousness of his questions. She didn’t feel at all nervous, trusting in Uncle William’s dictates to always deal with the truth, but she thought if she’d had anything to hide, Chad’s narrowed stare might unnerve her.
“I’ll be glad to trot out my references if you want to see them, but Dana will verify that she checked my credibility and found that I am who I am and all that stuff before Honor and I struck our bargain.”
Spring moved into the small kitchen on this last. She took into account the deep lines fanning Chad’s eyes and the taut skin across his cheekbones, and wondered if he’d stay awake long enough to eat anything even if she prepared it.
Opening the refrigerator door, she stared at the contents to determine what might be the quickest thing to serve. He’d want something hot, she thought, but a man that seriously tired also needed something reasonably balanced on his stomach before he went to bed.
“How about scrambled eggs and ham?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder as she asked. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons down. His head rested against the wall, causing his eyes to go half-mast, the blue irises deepening to a dark stirring.
They caused a stirring in her middle, too. Something that spread throughout her like hot sweet cider in her mouth, with a spicy kick on the edges of her tongue.
“And, um, I’m twenty-three.” Why that was suddenly important, she didn’t know—except that she wanted him to know. She might be new to the Big Apple, but she wasn’t too young and naive to care for a young girl.
Yet that wasn’t the only reason she wanted him to know she was well past legal…for anything.
“Twenty-three,” he repeated as though he didn’t quite believe her. His quick glance down her faded jeans and T-shirt didn’t help her cause.
Spring knew she didn’t look her age. Her twin, Autumn, and she had found it rather funny these last few years when someone mistook them for younger, but it had never been a real problem. A little makeup usually helped, but she seldom wore it unless she was going out.
Since he hadn’t said no to the eggs, she pulled out the egg carton and other ingredients, and faced the counter and stove top to work, which gave him her back to view.
Spring no longer wondered about his skepticism. It was natural. While she’d heard all about Honor’s problems with her predecessor, obviously Chad had gone about his business in ignorance. She hadn’t given much thought to the fact that his messages from Europe were sketchy. She’d thought Chad had been informed about the change in the household. About her being there.
Now she was in an awkward position.
“Honor, why don’t you toast a couple of biscuits, too. Or—” she glanced at Chad again, gauging his reaction “—would you prefer toast? All we have on hand is wheat bread.”
“Whatever you have is fine,” he muttered. “And yes, I think I would like to see those references, if you don’t mind.”
“All right. I’ll find them while you eat.”
“Really, Chad, you don’t have to do that,” Honor protested. “Dana already checked all of Spring’s references and found them excellent. Besides, Spring really helped me out of a jam, and we get along terrifically. You just don’t know—”
“That’s just it, kiddo. I don’t know. And I do need to see them. What kind of a lawyer would I be if I didn’t pay close attention to details? Or follow up? It’s my job to look into the inner workings of corporate issues and mergers, and make sure the reported backgrounds and company assets and potential is as stated.”
“But I couldn’t have—”
“He’s quite right, Honor,” Spring said, sending her young friend a “Cool it” glance. She’d corner Honor later over this lack of communication, but now wasn’t the time. “He’d be a poor kind of brother to accept me at face value without checking my references, when we live together. Um, rather, when I live in your apartment and come from who-knows-where, as far as he knows.”
Her agreement didn’t seem to placate him much, but Chad’s attention turned to the plate of fluffy eggs and slice of warmed ham she set before him.
A moment later, Honor retrieved a couple of biscuits from the toaster oven, split, buttered, then browned under the broiler as Spring had shown her. She placed them next to his plate.
Spring found the sugarless strawberry jam and set it in the center of the table.
Spring stepped back and folded her hands in front of her. On the other side of Chad, Honor shifted from one foot to the other, pursing her mouth. Chad looked from his sister to her, then down at his plate.
It struck Spring that they were like two young servant girls from a century ago, hovering over the master to see what else they could do to please him. She wanted to laugh at her mental image, drawn from reading all those English classics of which Uncle William approved. Plus the historical novels she read undercover, to which she’d been addicted in her teen years.
She bit her lip to keep her giggle under control. Honor gave her a puzzled glance, to which she answered with a slight shake of her head.
Spring did miss her sister. Autumn would have read her mind instantly, and understood her line of thought. Even if Spring explained it, Honor Suzanne was simply too young to catch the humor.
Then she saw the rising suspicion in Chad’s glinting dark blue eyes, and her humor vanished. He’d never get the joke.
Well, smothering him with kindness wasn’t such a good idea, Spring decided. He wouldn’t understand the attention as mere kindness, or he’d misinterpret it altogether.
Turning, she left the kitchen to search for her references. A month ago, she’d no notion that she’d find being a companion to a young girl to hold so much complication. Or fun, either. She and Honor got along as though born to be friends. Honor was as new to the city as she, and they’d been exploring Manhattan together in their free time.
A few moments later, she reentered the kitchen. Chad had nearly cleaned his plate, she quickly noted.
“…and you should see some of the collections! Funny stuff from a long time ago. Centuries, even,” Honor said, telling of their recent visit to the Design Museum.
“Most of it wasn’t funny when it was designed,” Spring reminded her with a grin. “And a generation or two past doesn’t quite make it into the ‘centuries’ category for Mrs. Pine or Mr. Steward, now does it?”
Chad raised a brow. “Who?”
“These old people at church,” Honor explained, then hastily added, “But they’re really neat. They, like, visited our Sunday night Jumpstart a couple of weeks ago and told us about how it was when they were teenagers. Mr. Steward enlisted in the Army to fight in World War II when he was only seventeen.”
“What’s Jumpstart?” Again, Chad raised a brow, but then lowered it into a frown. Finished eating, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea. Giving it a quick glance, Spring noticed his startled reaction at the herbal concoction. Yet he made no comment, merely returning his cup to its saucer.
“It’s our weekly meeting for high schoolers, mostly,” Honor explained. “Lots of college kids come, too. Only, we have more than just kids who attend. It’s awesome, Chad. You should come sometime. Spring does, and—”
“What do you do there?”
“We Jumpstart the week with Bible Study and prayer and encouraging stuff. And Josh Nolan, our youth minister, usually talks, but it’s not like a heavy sermon or anything.”
Chad’s eyes began to droop.
“Perhaps you’d rather hear all of this tomorrow,” Spring murmured, thinking they were losing his attention fast. It wasn’t fair to overload an already exhausted mind, and expect that mind to later retain an ounce of intelligent memory, Uncle William used to say. Of course, he would say that especially when she and Autumn wanted to talk to him at the same time.
Spring smiled inwardly at the memory. Uncle William had died a few months before, having urged her and Autumn to pursue their dreams, and leaving each of them with a small legacy to do so.
Now she was having adventures in New York City.
Chad assessed her face a moment before saying, “Some of it can wait. Right now, I want to know more about you, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Of course. Here you go—” She placed a copy of her resume in front of him. It gave her educational background and work and personal references from Kansas City, her hometown. She hadn’t a wide range of worldly experience, she was ready to admit, but she felt perfectly confident in watching over Honor Suzanne and guiding her schoolwork. After all, she’d been the more nurturing of the two sisters at home, and could run a household with perfect ease.
“I attended a Midwest community college, which I know isn’t very impressive by any of the big school standards, but I’ve worked steadily since I turned eighteen and I have a good work ethic. Uncle William saw to that. He raised my sister Autumn, and me.”
“What are you doing here in New York?” Chad asked.
“I’m a dress designer. Or I want to be. I’ve been putting in my applications around the city and showing some of my sketches.”
“I see. And do your duties here leave you enough time for all that?” His tone had an edge of sarcasm, but Spring ignored it while Honor gazed adoringly at her brother.
“She’s bound to be accepted someplace, Chad,” Honor put in enthusiastically. “She’s really good. That dress she was wearing when you came in is for one of the women in our church. She’s a ballet dancer and needed a dressmaker, so Dana suggested—”
“You run a business out of this apartment?” Chad sat forward abruptly, his tone sharp.
“Well, it’s not exactly a real business,” Spring answered. “Only a little sewing.”
“Do you accept money for your services?”
“Um, yes. A few dollars. But—”
“You must stop it immediately! This apartment is strictly residential and has an airtight code against using it for business purposes. You could get us fined or kicked out of our lease for such an offence.”
“Oh, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“We didn’t know that, Chad,” Honor said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. “Don’t be mad. We just thought to earn a little extra spending money…”
“Spending money? I think for what I pay you,” he all but sputtered at Spring before turning to Honor, “and your allowance, that you’d have quite enough for mere pocket money. What have you been buying, anyway?”
Spring decided it wasn’t the time to inform him she hadn’t been paid, or that Honor hadn’t received an allowance for weeks. Already, she knew it would disturb him. He’d learn the necessary details in due time.
“Nothing out of reason, Mr. Alexander. Only tickets to special exhibits and a few restaurant meals.” Few was the operative word, Spring thought, with New York prices so much higher than what she was used to. “But that didn’t come out of anyone’s salary.”
“No, I’m sure it didn’t. Household accounts, I suppose. Well, I’ll look at the receipts and do the accounting tomorrow. You did keep receipts, didn’t you?”
Spring hadn’t meant the expenditures had come from the household accounts, but she guessed he’d discover that soon enough, too. “Actually, I didn’t see a need.”
His frown deepened. “Really? How did you expect to justify the budget I left for you? What about the credit card bills?”
“I didn’t see a budget.” She brushed her bangs from her eyes, beginning to feel a little ruffled. “Sorry. But you’ll find everything is in order since I’ve been here, and we have no outstanding bills. We simply pay cash as we go.”
“Is there anything left from the discretionary fund I left for Mrs. Hinkle’s use?”
“What discretionary fund?” Spring asked.
“No, Chad. That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Honor said. “There’s nothing left in the cash account or the credit card limit. Mrs. Hinkle spent it all, including my allowance, in the first ten days after you left.”
“What?” His mouth dropped as he tried to take in what Honor had said. “But there was enough there to cover everything except the most dire of emergencies, and she was directed to apply to Walter Peebles if there was any greater need. How could she have run through what should’ve lasted three months?”
“Well, she did. And Uncle Walter turned down a couple of requests she made to him. When I called Uncle Walter, he told me what to do. We notified all our credit card accounts, and closed out the two bank accounts and opened new ones. Dana and Spring helped me do that. But you have to sign the new bank cards, Uncle Walter said.”
