Flora remembered the day she and Gilbert fled the bank as the most exciting day of her entire life. She had hardly been able to button her blouse in front of the mirror that morning, with her fingers shaking the way they were. She had nearly stabbed herself in the head with her hatpin. It was then she’d had to give herself a little pep talk, because she would have to work the whole day knowing what she knew, and if she entered the bank that morning with her fingers shaking and her voice all jittery, she would have given the whole thing away.

Her handbag was heavier than usual, holding eight used makeup compacts packed with vegetable shortening, which Gilbert had said they might need to grease any of the locks on the drawers, boxes, or vault. If anyone peeked inside the pocketbook they’d just assume she had a slight obsession with makeup, which she really did not. As her husband, Bill, drove her to work she took deep, slow breaths and told herself over and over in her head, You can do this, Flora. You can do this.

After saying goodbye to Bill, and closing the car door, every move she made was done slowly and deliberately. From the time she inserted the key into the lock of the bank’s back door, to the phony, cheerful smile she gave Mr. Hunsicker when he arrived (forty-five minutes after everyone else who worked at the bank), to the friendly “Have a nice weekend!”s and “See you Monday!”s she said to everyone at the end of the day. She would never know if they had a nice weekend or not, and she wouldn’t see them Monday, or any day after that, and the lie squished and sloshed in her stomach a little. For the most part Flora had kept to herself at work, but everyone who worked with her would have said they really liked her. But that had always been a large part of her daily existence, making sure she was likable.

The internal anxiety and thrilling terror she felt were coupled with the relief that she wouldn’t have to keep up the charade of romancing her revolting boss. It was a role within a role and she had done such a convincing job of it, she just knew she could have made it big on the stage, or even in Hollywood. Mr. Hunsicker had to believe she fancied him, but wouldn’t dare betray her husband. And no one else was supposed to know or even suspect any of it. Gilbert had made it clear that was terribly important. She had put on quite a production for that purpose, and could have given Barbara Stanwyck a run for her money. Barbara in Double Indemnity, though, not Barbara in Christmas in Connecticut. “Duplicitous” was the word she had been rolling over and over in her head while she worked. It helped put her in the proper frame of mind, and it helped her nail her performance.