Chapter Eleven
Jamie pushed open the glass door into the Planters Credit Union. He looked around. It had been ages since he’d been in the place, and he instantly saw it had been completely redone since last time he’d been there.
He walked over to a desk where a woman was sitting, working on her computer. It took a moment to recognize her. “Sarah?” Jamie asked as he stopped in front of her desk.
“Oh my.” The woman practically threw herself into his arms. “As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Jamie Puckett. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. How are you?” She had stepped back but kept her hands on his forearms.
“I’m good, Sarah and you?” Jamie asked. She’d been one of the few close friends from high school. There were some days he thought he’d never have survived the horrors of high school had it not been for her.
“I’m fine, just fine.” She looked him over. “You look good, Jamie. I was so sorry to hear about Ms. Mattie. She was one of a kind, the best kind.”
“Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate that.”
“I’d have been at the funeral, but I had work, and with the kids and all... well, it was near impossible to get away.”
“That’s okay. I understand.” He took a breath. “I need to see if Adrian Jackson is available.”
“I’ll check for you.” She went back to her desk and picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “Hi, Adrian. Jamie Puckett is here and wanted to have a word with you.” She listened for his response. “Will do.”
Sarah smiled at him. “I had no doubt he’d want to talk to you.”
“Oh? Why’s that? I don’t think I’ve met him before.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. He moved over here from the Agusta branch. Big step up for him.” She glanced over her shoulder and leaned in, “Your grandparents are... were really, really good customers, so I knew he’d come running.”
Sure enough, a not-quite-middle-aged man came walking through the lobby at a quick pace. As soon as he got close enough, he stuck out his hand. “Adrian Jackson at your service, Mr. Puckett. How can I be of assistance?”
Jamie took the outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jackson. Thank you for seeing me without an appointment. I have some paperwork here and... well, I do have some questions.”
“That’s quite alright. Anytime.” He looked at Sarah, who sat smiling. “Thank you, Sarah.”
“My pleasure, Adrian. Jamie and I go way back. All the way back to grade school.”
“Why I like small towns,” Adrian said, smiling ear to ear. “Shall we go into my office?”
On the way, Jamie shared that his legal surname was now Throneaux.
Once they were in Mr. Jackson’s office, the door closed, and each had a seat.
Jamie pulled out all the paperwork he’d gotten from Glenn Brown.
“I have all this paperwork that Mr. Brown said you would need. To be honest, I haven’t read most of it. ”
“That’s fine. No need to worry about it.” Adrian Jackson pulled on a pair of reading glasses and had a glance. “I had no doubt that it would all be in order, knowing Glenn as I do.” He took off his glasses. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I guess I’d like to know how much is in the diner’s account.”
“Just the diner accounts or all of the accounts?” He put his glasses back on and turned to his computer, starting to type.
“Uh... how many accounts are there?”
The banker took off his glasses again. “I guess you didn’t read through all that paperwork.
There are two accounts for the diner and one for your grandfather, Mr. Solan, one for Ms. Mattie and one for you.
Then there are the accounts for each of the rental properties.
So that would make ten accounts in total, I believe. ”
“Me?” Jamie’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize I still had an account here. I’ve not had an account here since I was a teenager.”
“Well, it’s still open and active.” He went back to his keyboard. “I’ll print out the last statements for all accounts, and you’ll have a hard copy to read from.”
Jamie heard the whir of the printer, which seemed to go on and on, at least to Jamie’s ears. When it stopped, Mr. Jackson picked up a small stack of papers from the printer tray, looked through them and handed the pile to Jamie.
“I’ll give you a moment to have a look, and then I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have. Would you like some water or a soft drink? Coffee?”
When Jamie looked down at the first page, the name on it was his, and then he saw the available amount in it, he stopped breathing. He looked up. “Water. Please,” he managed to choke out.
While the banker was out getting his water, he took a quick glance at all the accounts. What he saw astounded him. His mouth had gone completely dry. He let the papers rest in his lap as he tried to wrap his brain around what and how this could be.
“Well, Mr. Throneaux, do you have any questions?” Mr. Jackson handed him a cold bottle of water.
“I can honestly say I’m in shock.” Jamie unscrewed the bottle of water and took a long drink. “I had no idea.”
Adrian Jackson sat down. “I can see that. I do want to, need to tell you that the Credit Union is only insured for up to $100,000.00 per account. As you can see, some of those accounts exceed that.”
“But...” Jamie picked up the top page of the account in his name. “How did this happen?”
“Which account are you referring to?” Mr. Jackson asked, turning back to his computer.
“Um... The account with my name on it.”
“Good enough place to start.” The banker typed in some numbers.
“Your account was opened eighteen years ago. A deposit occurred... once a week, every week since then. It’s just a savings account.
The last time a withdrawal was made was.
.. a little over a year ago, transferred to Atlanta Financial Services, which is run by Payton Manley.
” Mr. Jackson looked at Jamie over his reading glasses. “Can I assume you know who he is?”
“Yes, I know of him.”
Mr. Jackson removed his glasses. “Your grandfather made deposits into each account every Friday at two thirty in the afternoon, each and every week. Well, until he died, that is. My condolences, by the way. I did go to the funeral, but was late getting to the diner and the line was out the door by then, so I didn’t even attempt to try and get in. ”
Jamie looked back down at the paperwork in his lap, trying to hold back a tear. “I had no idea.”
Mr. Jackson didn’t say anything, letting it all sink in.
After a few moments, Jamie looked up. “All I wanted to know was if there was enough in the accounts to do some renovations on the diner and give the staff a vacation.”
“Mr. Throneaux, I do believe you have enough to do just about anything that you’d like.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. “Can I be frank?”
Jamie could only nod.
“Ever since your grandfather died, I’ve been at my wits end.
Anytime the accounts got close to the insurance limit, he would transfer it up to Atlanta.
That hasn’t happened but once this year.
And while the diner isn’t exactly making money, the rest of the money coming in each week has been steadily mounting up.
I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t inform you that anything over that amount would disappear if anything were to happen like with the Savings and Loan debacle like back in the 1980s. ”
Jamie took a deep breath. “Can you figure out how much over that limit each account is, added together, please?”
Mr. Jackson put his glasses back on. “I sure can. Give me a minute or so.”
He typed on his computer and then on his desk calculator numerous times. He tore the small paper readout from his calculator. “Here ya go.”
Jamie looked down at the slip of paper, then back at Mr. Jackson. “Even if I opened another account, it would be in excess of the insurance limit.”
“That would be correct. What did you have in mind?”
Jamie thought for a moment. “Okay, let’s do this... set up an account for the diner renovations and then another for staff vacation. That will almost do it. Oh, and how about an account for apartment renovations? Will that work? How about tax implications?”
Mr. Jackson sat back in his chair. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you went to the Mr. Solan’s School of Finance.
That sounds just like something he would do.
” He cleared his throat. “I’m not an accountant or financial tax advisor, but I do think that would be legal and legitimate.
I would advise that you contact Atlanta Financial for that type of advice, but I think that is excellent thinking on your part. ”
“Can we go ahead and do that, please?” Jamie asked. “Also, is there a way to set up transfer accounts for certain businesses under each account?”
“Yes.” Mr. Jackson was furiously typing away on his computer, and then picked up the phone, dialled a number. “Sarah, can you step into my office, please?”
“I hate to be a bother,” Jamie said.
“No. No, it’s no bother. I’m glad to get this done. As I said, I’ve worried about these accounts for going on six months!”
“Yes, Adrian?” Sarah was standing in the doorway, the door slightly ajar.
“Would you mind helping me set up a few accounts for Mr. Throneaux?”
A look of confusion crossed Sarah’s face. “Who?”
Jamie smiled up at her. “That would be me,” he gave a slight wave.