September 1996-
I went to Rockland today.  Alone of course.  Willow stayed home with Bumpkin.  I told her not to start a fire, not to climb up in the loft, and not to use knives.  I forgot to tell her not to go fishing.  I arrived home to a bucket full of fish in the cellar.  Her little pixie face grinned at me and said, “I couldn’t clean them- you said.”
Oh boy.  What have I done?  She found the algebra book I had in the library. I didn’t even know I had one.  She read the instructions and then asked me how to add, subtract, and multiply fractions so she could try the problems.  She’s ten.  I think she’ll be beyond my mathematic capabilities in the next couple of years.
I think we’ll embellish all of our files and journals this winter.  I ordered paints and sprays to protect the work.  Colored pencils.  She needs more creativity.  I should buy her a doll to dress.  I’ll ask Mr. Barnes for suggestions.
I walked by the house on Wimpole Street.  It looks the same as ever.  I can’t do it again.  The urge to go visit was almost irresistible.  I almost convinced myself that I could do it without mentioning Willow.  I don’t trust myself.
The good news is, however, that my accounts are growing nicely.  I have more than made up for the money spent to get set up and by the time I’m sixty, we should be looking at possibly eight figures.  She can do anything.  Go anywhere.  Be anyone she wants to be.

January 1997-
Willow is a designer at heart.  The clothing she has created for her Christmas doll is incredible.  I mentioned how ice skaters use flesh colored knit to give the impression of skin.  Not a smart move.  She asked me to call and order some immediately.  She practically pushed me out the door.  Now her doll has clothes without that nasty orangish brown body fabric showing at the neck and upper arms.  It’s amazing.
Her relationship with the Lord inspires me.  When my faith grows weak, I observe her.  She doesn’t look for loopholes.  She accepts.  When I hear, “no” from the Lord, I fight it.  I take it personally.  When she hears no, Willow accepts it as readily as she accepts a straightforward no from me.  Oh for faith like hers!
We’re nearly done with our projects.  It’s almost February.  Soon we’ll plant tomatoes and create winterizing houses for the lettuce beds.  I am craving a nice big salad.
I wonder what the living room chase would look like if we reupholstered it.  That red is quite garish.  Perhaps a lovely green suede would be better.  I’ll ask Willow.

The bus pulled into the Rockland station.  Willow felt like a seasoned traveler as she snapped her mother’s journal closed and slipped it into her tote bag.  Within minutes, she stood waiting for her train to the heart of the city and watching everything around her.
Humanity looked, smelled, and acted different in the city.  Travelers crowded around their station markers hoping for a seat on trains while the homeless shuffled between areas hoping to avoid security who would send them above into the heat.
At the Jefferson Station, Bill waited for her as she stepped from the train.  “You’re here!  Let’s get a cab,” he greeted throwing an arm around her shoulder and leading her toward the escalators.
As they rose out of the subway, Willow glanced at the buildings around her waiting for the rise of panic but it didn’t come.  Though she still felt slightly intimidated, the raw fear that the area had previously produced seemed gone.  “Well, at least I’m not afraid.”
“That’s excellent.  I have frustrating news- for me that is.  You’ll probably be relieved.”  Bill hailed a cab as he spoke and helped her inside directing the driver toward the nearest Department of Motor Vehicles.
“What’s wrong?”
“I got a last minute call from someone I’ve been trying to nab as a client for two years.  He’s in town and wants to meet with me.  I can’t miss the opportunity so I have a one o’clock appointment with him.”
“Oh that’s wonderful news though!”
“You’re welcome to come with me if you like or I thought maybe you might want to walk around the Row again and check out the bookstore, go back to Boho or something like that.”
The DMV intimidated her.  Suddenly Willow’s mouth went dry and her hands trembled.  “What if they say no?  What happens then?”
“You’ll be fine.  You have to fill out a paper, show them your birth certificate and Social Security card, and you’re done.  They’ll take your picture and in a week or two, you’ll have your ID.”
Bill stood in line while Willow filled out the lines and boxes of the application.  She carefully copied her Social Security number into the proper place and then signed her name beautifully and precisely as though sending a letter.  “There.  Is that all correct?” she asked showing Bill the letter as she stood beside him in line.
Their turn came slowly.  The monotone ‘next please’ sounded heart wrenchingly pathetic to her ears.  “I’d like to get a State I.D. please.”
“Fill out this paperwork-” The woman passed a form across the counter.
Bill started to intervene but Willow preempted him.  “Is that the same as this one?”
“Hey, we got one on the ball girls!” the woman cried to no one in particular.  “I need to see your birth certificate and your social security card please.”
Willow pulled the documents from her purse along with several checks.  “Oh, Bill.  I brought more checks for you to deposit.”
Bill slipped the checks into his suit breast pocket and waited patiently for Willow to finish her finger printing, photo, and final signature.  The clerk nearly went crazy waiting for her to finish the signature.  “Come on lady, it’s not the Declaration of Independence or anything!”
“Actually, you have no idea how much of a Declaration of Independence that this truly is,” Bill assured the woman.
Outside the building, Willow grabbed Bill’s arm as he tried to hail a cab.  “Let me try.”
Like an old pro, Willow caught a taxi and asked him to take them to the soup and salad place they’d planned for lunch. Bill handed her an envelope on the way.  Willow slipped two cards and a checkbook from it and looked at him questioningly.
“I thought maybe you’d want access to your money without having to go through me.  The life insurance check came so that account is obscenely over funded.  We need to transfer some of it to a higher yield…”
Willow listened half-heartedly as she fingered the checkbook, compared the two cards, and tried to make sense of it all.  “So what are the checks for?”
“Well, if you need to pay someone for something- like if someone does work for you or whatever.  You can use them at stores too but I’d use the credit card since you actually can earn money by spending that way.”  He pulled the checks she’d handed him from his pocket and returned them.
“You can also deposit these with the slips at the back of the checkbook.’
Willow found deposit slips, fingered the checks, and then addressed the driver.  “Can you please take me to-” she consulted her checks.  “Four thousand three hundred sixteen Waterbrook?  It’s the First Rockland National Bank.”
“Miss, there’s a branch just around the corner at that light.  Do you want to go way over there or-”
Outside the bank, Willow grinned.  “I did it.  I took a taxi, made a decision, and I’m about to deposit my first checks in my bank account!”
As they entered the bank, Willow’s eyes grew wide.  “What-”
“Just enter, get through the doors, and wait for me.  I’ll go through when you’re done.”
Nervously, Willow stepped into the clear glass anteroom and waited as the door swung shut and then another door buzzed.  She jumped.  Looking panicked, she rushed back to the first door but a security guard opened the other door for her.  “This way ma’am.”
“Oh thank you!  I don’t know what I did-”
“You’re fine.  Step out of the security room please.”
Bill entered the box almost at the same instant as the other door closed.  He pulled the door shut behind him and exited the second the buzzer tripped.  “I didn’t think about the buzzer, I’m sorry.”
“What is that for?”
“Well,” Bill began, hating that he needed to explain the idea at all.  “It helps prevent robberies.  Only one person can enter at a time, the glass is bullet proof, and if anything looks odd, they can lock them in there until the police arrive.”
She shuddered.  “And Chad wants to be an officer here.  I just don’t understand.”
“I imagine it has to do with wanting to be apart of the action.  He’s young and ready to take on the world.  A few years on the force here and he’ll realize what he had in Fairbury.”
At the counter, Willow followed Bill’s instructions for the deposit very carefully.  Each check was signed precisely and her account number copied perfectly- on every check.  She filled out the slip and was careful to add her totals twice to ensure accuracy.  By the time she was finally ready to get in line, several people had come and gone.
“This is so exciting!  I have so much money to put in too!”
Bill glanced at the deposit total.  Seven hundred eighteen dollars was nothing to sneeze at but for a woman like Willow with her resources, it was chump change.  He couldn’t fathom how she could be so excited over something so simple.
Over lunch, they discussed her financial options.  Willow assumed that the life insurance payout would be added to her already significant account and would help grow it over time but Bill made several suggestions all of which had strong merits.  “I’ll have to think about it.”
She accepted the lunch ticket and read it carefully.  Bill found the process highly embarrassing but wisely said nothing.  Once certain of its accuracy, Willow pulled several bills from her purse but Bill stopped her.  “Why don’t you use your card?  It’ll be good practice.”
“Which one do I use?”
Bill showed her the VISA logo on her credit card and the Master Money logo on the debit card.  “The VISA is for purchases and things.  The Master logo is for withdrawing cash or making purchases without I.D.  As long as you have that four digit number I gave you-”
“You mean four-”
Bill waved his hands.  “Don’t announce it in public, you’re asking for it to be stolen.”
They wandered down Waterbury Street to Boutique Row after lunch.  On the way, Bill explained how the lunch she bought today would be on her end of the month statement and he’d pay for it and any other purchases all at once.  Willow was confused.
“But why would they pay me to spend that money?  It doesn’t make sense.”
“Well, for one thing, it’s not very much. Only two percent- and that’s only because of your credit limit.”
“But still-”
Bill continued.  “And they do it because they’re hoping you’ll spend more than you can pay so they’ll get it back and then some with the interest you pay.”
“I need to find a book on basic finance.  I understand principles but I can’t understand the application.  I am completely confused.”
They passed a Borders bookstore and Bill did an about face.  “Let’s go in and find you that book.”
***
Willow rode home in a daze.  So much had happened in one afternoon.  Instead of reading her book on finance, as had been her intention, she pondered the financial discussions, relived her time and tour in the Boho Boutique, and the many firsts of the day.  Her purse held small pieces of plastic that seemed as good as cash- maybe even better if Bill was right about the interest.  He must be but the idea seemed absurd.  Pay people to spend money.  It was ridiculous.
At the Fox, Willow pulled her bicycle from the wall and pushed it along Market Street to the convenience store.  She disappeared inside the restroom and reemerged wearing her jeans and a t-shirt.  Unaware that Joe Freidan watched her curiously, Willow hopped on her bicycle and rode toward home.  Less than a mile away, Chad pulled ahead of her and stopped.
“Get in.  I’ll take you home.”
“But I’ve got my bicycle.”
“And no helmet,” Chad countered.  “Get in.”
“You’re awfully bossy today.”
“You’re awfully foolish.  I told you it wasn’t safe on this road now get in!”
Willow almost refused.  Her hands gripped the handlebars tighter and one foot rose as though to push down on the pedal once more.  However, Chad pulled the sunglasses from his eyes as he moved to help lift the bicycle and she saw the genuine concern there.  This wasn’t the time to assert her independence.  She’d learned this with her mother.  Fear made people act in obnoxious ways.
“I got my I.D.  It’s coming in the mail.  I have bank accounts and credit cards and everything.  I even got a book on finances.  By the time I’m done, maybe I won’t need Bill anymore.”
“I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”
Willow glanced at Chad before she exited the truck.  “What do you mean?”
Chad swung the bicycle over the truck bed and pushed it along side her and into the garage.  “I mean that Bill likes having an excuse to see you.  Without that, he might have to make his interest a bit more overt.”
The puppy interrupted them jumping on Willow’s legs and yapping.  “Hey girl!”
“What did you end up naming her anyway?”
“Nothing.  I can’t name an animal.  I never could.  Mother would take a dog or goat or even the barn cats and look in their eyes and just know.  I never did.  I try out a hundred names and nothing fits.  Mother tossed one name into the ring and it was perfect.”
Chad rubbed the puppy’s belly laughing at the scratching reflex.  “Call her Saige.  With an i.  She looks like a Saige.”
Willow patted the puppy’s head.  “Saige.  I like it.  It’s perfect.  Why didn’t you say something sooner?”
“It never occurred to me.”
“Care to name the sheep too?”
Chad leaned against the barn door his arms crossed across his chest and one foot behind him.  Purl for sure.  Like knit and purl not like the jewel.  Purl and Nellie.”
“Why Nellie?”
Honestly, Chad had no idea.  The name had come to him and it fit but Willow’s face showed that she expected a good answer.  Grateful for years of classroom snow jobs, Chad shrugged casually.  “Well, I was thinking of needles and then somehow that made me think of how Nellie Oleson always needled Laura so I thought, ‘Nellie.’”
“Purl and Nellie.  Perfect.  Now I need to order my spinning wheel.”  She paused.  “What was that you were saying about Bill?”