The changling's eyes widened. Some look of faint recognition appeared to dawn on her. Lily, regretfully, closed her eyes. No sooner had her lids shut her into the deep darkness then she felt a vice grip fall over them. Like so many times hearing a story late at night, sometimes she would close her eyes to imagine a scene that her father or mother were reading to her. She would get lost in a scene - like the great flowing meadows and farms of the Velveteen Rabbit. Her nostrils could smell the hay and she could imagine the rabbit inquisitively hopping around in the grass.
"Are you real, bunny?" she asked, suddenly aware that she was no longer in the bank with her grandpa. Maybe she fell asleep? In a bank? The rabbit hopped around, seemingly ignoring her question.
She had the same shoes on - a pair of thick, comfortable snow boots and the same leggings. Same shirt, too. And now there's a bunny and she's in a field. Her brow furrowed. Something was not right. Thankfully, she heard the rumble of an old Rolls Royce driving down the dusty dirt road. The rabbit stood up on its hind legs and peered over the grass curiously at the dust plume kicked off by its approach. She was instantly torn. One on hand - bunny. On another hand - maybe somebody interesting was in the car. There was a debate. She veered across the field in a mad dash towards the rabbit. The dun colored rabbit saw this approach and its eyes grew big. But before she could get within five paces of it, the rabbit had already bolted. Making a zig-zag pattern through the long grass, he safely made it to the brambles and disappeared. This truly disappointed Lily. But by that time, the long black sedan had rolled to a stop on the road. She focused her eyes and she could make out the very pale, old features of her grandpa. His passenger side window rolled down, he appeared to be waving her towards him.
"Come on," he beckoned. "Get in! We're going to get some ice cream!"
This proposal sounded infinitely interesting to her. One last glance to see if the rabbit was still a prospect -- which it wasn't -- and she raced to the rear door of her grandfather's sedan. He got out, dutifully, and opened the back door to let her in. The plush black velvet upholstery and intricate worked ivory and gold about the borders always made her feel like she was some sort of royalty. At least she imagined. And when she was safely seated and buckled in, Hue got into the driver's seat and shifted the clutch into first. And then second. And then third. Lily watched with rapt fascination as the forest whipped by. The passing images and flickering mid-summer light captured her attention. Eventually, the golden glares and greens began to blend together once again. Once again? Once again. She must be dreaming, she thought. After all - it's winter time. Isn't it?
When Lily awoke, she was still in the back of the sedan. In the front seat, her grandfather drove across the Golden Gate bridge heading northbound. Looking back out the window, it was indeed winter. A dreary and gray winter not at all as warm and beautiful as that meadow.
"Ah, you're awake," her grandfather announced and smiled at her through the rearview mirror. She groggily smiled back at him.
"Did we leave the bank already?" she asked.
"Oh heavens yes," Grandpop Huey replied.
Lily nodded her head, consciously wondering at what point she had fallen asleep. That's when something caught her eye on the floor and she looked over to see Grandpops had three heavy looking canvas satchels on the floorboard beside her. She reached over and felt the canvas -- which she felt clashed with the usual color scheme her grandfather seemed to enjoy. Pulling up a loose flap at the top, she saw it was laden with lots of money. Lots and lots of money.
"Grandpops," she hesitantly asked. "Did you make a withdrawal?"
"Yes, darling. Yes I most certainly did."