Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  Mom, still wiping her eyes, said, "You can't do that. It's your money. Don't blow it all on us."

  Dad looked torn. "I... no, don't. But feel free to blow a little."

  I laughed and told the spellbound group how Tiff had advised me not to dig into the principal, ending with, "So I basically have about $120,000 a month to play with. And this month, I want to use it for our parents."

  Mom shook her head at once. "I won't. I won't take that much."

  "You don't have to." I held out the price sheet I'd been given. "For an inside room with no view of the ocean I can get you there for around forty grand. But I wanted to put you in a cabin with a balcony. That's twice as much but you guys have been fairly good to me over the years, if you recall. And it doesn't exactly leave me broke."

  Mom leaned back in her chair and pressed a hand to her mouth. "I don't know. This is unbelievable."

  Dad looked at me. "Are you sure this is how you want to spend your first month's interest?"

  I remembered how kind and supportive they'd been to me when I fell apart after Shane. I remembered my squeamish mother helping me clean my hysterectomy incisions without even hinting it bothered her. I remembered all the other things, big and small, they'd done for me throughout my life. "Totally sure."

  Dad put his arm around Mom's shoulder. "Well? Will we let the kid buy our affections?"

  Everyone laughed. At least, I thought they all did, but when I looked over at the other side of the table I doubted Cody had. He looked miserable, and his wife Sydney's bright smile looked pasted on. I was never sure I bought her 'I love everybody' act but it was especially weak now.

  I cleared my throat. "I also want to be nice to my lovely siblings, of course. I have a check for each of you for ten thousand, and in six months I'll give you all more. A lot more. I'd do it now but I can't without disobeying my advisor and dipping into the principal, and she scares me too much to do that."

  Natalie clapped her hands. "I've always said you're the best sister ever."

  "Not what you said last week," Tuesday put in calmly, and we all laughed.

  I pulled out the checks and handed them out, surprised at the prickle of discomfort I felt watching fifty grand fly away from me forever, and as I was about to tell them one more thing Sydney said, "It's post-dated a week?"

  "Yeah. Sorry. I was just going to tell you. I talked to the bank today and once I deposit the lottery check they'll set me up with a $200,000 line of credit so I can buy things before I actually start getting interest payments, but I don't have it yet and I didn't want your checks to bounce." I couldn't imagine that I really needed such a huge line of credit, but the bank advisor had suggested that amount and since it would just sit there if I didn't use it I'd figured it was okay.

  Cody gave a slow nod and Sydney said, "Well, it's still awfully sweet of you," and flashed me her smile.

  I smiled back, as always wondering whether her sugary-sweet outer coating really reflected how she felt or whether she was ever sour on the inside, then turned to Mom. "Well? Going on the cruise?"

  "You're really sure?"

  "Fifty million times sure."

  The others chuckled, but her eyes filled with tears again. "Then we accept."

  People clapped and cheered, but I didn't know who did what because Mom grabbed me in a hug. "You're the best," she said, squeezing me tight. "I can't thank you enough."

  I hugged her back. "Have a great time. That's all the thanks I need." We released each other and I giggled, so happy I could do this for them. "And maybe a postcard here and there."

  "A postcard?" Dad's mock shock made me laugh harder. "The girl thinks we're made of money."

  "I think we can spare a few dollars to send her some cards, Duncan." Mom rolled her eyes. "Honestly, some people. You could have given him a million dollars and he wouldn't be satisfied."

  "I would too." Dad grinned at me. "I'll prove it. Got a spare million for your old dad?"

  "Talk to me in a year."

  He laughed, and Natalie said hesitantly, "I don't want to be a bitch, but are you going to give us millions in a year?"

  "Natalie!" Both parents snapped at her in unison, but their reasons were different. Mom added, "Watch your language," while Dad said, "You can't ask that."

  "Sorry, sorry," Natalie said, then grimaced. "But are you?"

  "If she does, we'll use it to send you somewhere to learn some manners."

  Ignoring Dad, I said, "Honestly? I don't know what I'm doing yet. I only had the win confirmed yesterday morning so I'm still in shock. Even if my advisor hadn't told me not to spend the principal yet, I'm not sure what I would have done. But I do kind of like you guys, so I'm sure I'll do something more. But I can't say for sure now. Cool?"

  "Cool," she said. "I can wait. It's all good."

  I wasn't quite sure it was all good, since Tiff had in fact warned me that handing over millions of dollars was a sure-fire way to tear a family apart, but I didn't want to push it any more and besides the others were busy thanking me for their newly acquired thousands and making excited plans and asking me questions about the whole thing and I was having too much fun listening to worry.

  Chapter Seven

  I spent the next morning relaxing and tending my bonsai to give myself strength for what lay ahead, then after lunch I was getting physically and mentally ready to head out to the lottery office when my cell rang.

  "Hey, Tuesday," I said, digging through my jewelry box for a misplaced earring. "What's up?"

  "Have you picked up the money yet?"

  "Just about to. Why?"

  "Can we meet for coffee first?"

  I started to say no because I'd geared myself up to go and didn't want to wait, but I could hear the urgency in her voice. "Sure, if it's important."

  "It is."

  Wondering what could have changed since I'd seen her, I hurried over to the coffee shop she'd suggested. She was already there, with a steaming cup in front of her and one awaiting my attention.

  I took the chair in front of the cup. "What did you get me?"

  "Earl Gray tea."

  "Thanks. But I'd have bought you one, you know."

  She stiffened. "Yeah, I do know."

  I blinked. "Pardon?"

  She sighed, then reached into her purse and pulled out the check I'd given her, holding it out to me. "We can't take this."

  I didn't pluck the check from her fingers. "Why not?"

  "You and me, we're... well, we're pretty good friends, right? Even though we're sisters?"

  "I like to think so." Tuesday was six years younger than me, with Cody between us in age, but we'd always gotten along well. As adults we'd gone out for lunch every month or so on top of our regular whole-family get-togethers, and I realized for the first time that she was the only one of my siblings with whom that happened.

  "I'm worried this will change our relationship." She fluttered the check at me. "I don't want you to feel like you have to give me money."

  "I don't feel that way. I want to do it."

  She held the check closer to me, and when I still didn't take it she set it down on the table. "That's what Murray said."

  "Smart man."

  "Yeah. But still. We don't need the money, and I just hate the idea that we, you and me, would be different." She frowned. "I don't want you to be different once you have the money."

  "I won't be." I shrugged. "I don't plan to be, anyhow. I guess I can't know for sure until I've got it."

  She nodded as if I'd proven her point. "If things change, I don't want it to be because I took money from you. Please, will you take it back?"

  Asked directly, I couldn't say no, but I did say, "I will hold onto it. And if you need it at some point--"

  "We won't."

  They almost certainly wouldn't. Both she and Murray had good jobs, and while not being cheap they were definitely careful with their money. "Let's say that if you want it for something it's available. Okay?"

  "We won't do that e
ither." She smiled, relieved. "But thank you. I really do appreciate it."

  I smiled back, glad to know how much my sister valued our friendship and also glad to see that Tiff's dire warnings had clearly been overkill. Nobody had demanded more money from me, and Tuesday and John had in fact refused my gifts. The people in my life weren't money-hungry jerks. I'd be fine.

  *****

  I wasn't glad about anything a few hours later when I was still stuck at the lottery office. I'd assumed the process would be fairly quick, but even though I'd called my lottery buddy Sean to alert him I was on my way I still had to wait in the large but crowded main office for ages until he came to find me.

  When he did pick me up, a swarm of people hurried to me at once, microphones and cameras at the ready, demanding to know whether I was the fifty-million-dollar woman.

  I looked at Sean, not sure how to respond, and he said calmly, "All in due time, folks. She will speak to you afterwards if there's anything to talk about, but for now, we need to check her claim."

  They let us go, and once we reached his office I said, "I'd rather not talk to them, actually."

  "That's up to you, of course." He pulled a file folder full of papers from his desk drawer. "But everyone will know your name, so you might be best off to tell your story once and then be done with it."

  "They'll know my-- why?"

  He looked up, surprised. "You didn't read the booklet? By law we have to release your name, photo, and city. That way people know the lottery is legitimately won by regular citizens like yourself."

  I had seen that in the booklet but I hadn't believed they'd really reveal my identity like that. "But I don't want that to happen," I said, trying to sound reasonable.

  "Then I'm afraid we can't give you the money," he returned smoothly, and I suddenly felt sure he'd had exactly this conversation with every winner he'd dealt with in the past.

  I sat silent, hating the prospect of having my name and photo splashed across today's web sites and tomorrow's newspapers. Tiff's insistence I change my contact information made more sense now, since once my name was out there a few strangers would no doubt decide they wanted a share of my cash.

  "Are we going ahead?"

  Sean's tone made it clear he knew the answer, so I gave it to him, although I heaved a sigh first. "Yeah. I do want the money."

  He smiled. "I know. Now, you can certainly refuse to talk to the media. That's up to you. I advise against it because they'll just try to find you later, but it's your call. So. I have a few questions for you."

  I was expecting name and address type stuff, and he did ask for that, but then he launched into a long series of questions about how often I bought tickets and whether I always bought them at that particular store and whether anyone could vouch for that and whether I had any connection to anyone who had ever worked for the Lottery Group and why I played the numbers I played. By the end I was half-expecting him to ask what color underwear I'd had on when I bought the ticket, but he finally said, "Okay. That all looks... fine."

  The doubt in his voice made me frown, but he said, "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure it's okay. I'm just not the final decision-maker, that's all."

  "Decision?" I'd won. I'd given him the winning ticket, which he'd photocopied so I could keep a copy for my records as Tiff had told me he would. What needed to be decided?

  He smiled. "Our auditors need to check through everything. Can I get you a coffee while you wait?"

  I let him, which proved to be a mistake since it was quite possibly the worst coffee I'd ever tasted, and I sat alone in his office for nearly two hours before he came back and said, "Well, good news. It's all been approved. You are indeed our latest MegaMoney winner."

  I should have been ecstatic, but I was bored senseless and badly needed to pee. "Why did it take so long?"

  He shrugged. "We have to be sure there's no possible collusion. But there's not, so it's all good. Are you ready to get your check?"

  I'd been ready for hours. "Absolutely. But is there a bathroom nearby first?"

  He nodded. "Good idea. Fix your lipstick."

  That wasn't what I'd been thinking of, but I nodded. Once I'd used the bathroom, and touched up my makeup since Sean's suggestion had made me think I must need some refurbishing, he led me down the hall to a small room with a carpeted stage at the front. A man with an impressive belly barely being contained by a black suit smiled at me from up there, and the twenty-odd people sitting before the stage, some of whom I recognized as reporters from the lobby, sat up straighter.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Sean said as we walked toward the front of the room, "meet Angela Hollingsford of Toronto, our newest multi-millionaire."

  They all clapped, and Sean smiled at me then held out his hand to help me onto the stage as camera flashes went off. Wishing I'd dressed in better clothes than my jeans and plain blue sweater, and understanding why Sean had suggested the makeup repair, I stepped up beside the large-bellied man, who took my hand and shook it so hard I felt seasick.

  "Congratulations, Angela," he said, then released me to accept a huge rectangle of cardboard from a woman standing nearby. He turned it dramatically toward me, and I stared at it. My name. Above the words 'fifty million dollars'.

  He took my shoulder and turned me to face the audience while at the same time positioning the enormous check in front of us both. "Grab hold," he said, his voice full of laughter, "of your future!"

  I took the check, my hands shaking as it became even more real to me, and he released it and stepped aside so the reporters could take pictures of me alone.

  Me. A multi-millionaire. I couldn't get my head around it.

  That was basically what the first reporter wanted to know. "How does it feel to be rich beyond your wildest dreams?"

  I grinned at him. "Pretty good. How do you think?"

  He chuckled, and another called out, "What are your plans?"

  "I'm sending my parents on a cruise," I said, before remembering that Tiff had told me not to get too specific. "If you say you're buying a house, every real estate agent in the country will be on your doorstep," she'd warned.

  I cleared my throat. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing yet," I said, hoping the reporter would ignore my first words. "I do have a team of advisors so I guess I'll be meeting with them and figuring out what to do next."

  A different person piped up. "Buying a new house?"

  I shrugged. "Again, I don't know."

  Yet another reporter. "What about your job? What do you do?"

  "I write for a wine magazine," I said, then figured Kerr would appreciate the publicity. "Wine Lovers Toronto. It's a great publication."

  "Are you going to keep working?"

  I didn't think I should quit this way, so I smiled sweetly and said, "I haven't even thought about that."

  "It's not like you need to," he said. "You're set for life now."

  Set for life. Set into a life that wasn't at all what I'd dreamed of from childhood. "Yeah," I said softly. "I guess I am."

  Chapter Eight

  After all the questions were done, the media left the room and the big-gutted man said, "That huge check is a lot of fun, but the bank will want this one," and handed me an envelope.

  I peered inside and saw once again my name paired with those three magical words. Fifty. Million. Dollars. It felt more real, and more amazing, every time I saw it.

  "You're welcome to keep the big check if you'd like. Did you drive here?" When I nodded, he said, "Good. It'd be rather awkward to haul it home on the subway."

  I chuckled, and he produced a black garbage bag and slipped the huge check reverently inside. "Good luck, Angela. Remember, 'no' is a complete sentence."

  I blinked, and he smiled at me. "You'll understand soon enough. Take care."

  "You too," I said, and soon my garbage bag and I were in my car and heading off to the bank.

  The solicitousness with which the bank welcomed me made the whole thing seem yet another level closer to r
eal, since at best I'd usually received a genteel lack of interest from my bank. This time, they recognized me from my meeting there the day before and ushered me directly to a private office with my 'executive banker' Ted who took my check (the regular-sized one) between his fingertips like it was a sacred relic and arranged to deposit the money into a monthly-paying fund that would earn me six percent interest.

  "My advisor Tiff did her calculations based on five percent," I said, glad she had let me know what numbers she'd used. "So what will I earn at six?"

  He whipped out a calculator. "Three million a year, or about $250,000 a month. Before taxes, of course."

  "Tiff mentioned a 42% tax rate."

  He nodded. "Some of what you earn will be in the lower tax brackets, but the bulk will indeed be at forty-two." After a little more calculator action, he said, "That will leave you about $145,000 a month."

  Twenty-five grand a month more than Tiff had thought. I sat silent, stunned.

  "It was my understanding that you wanted liquid investments at this time," Ted said quickly. "I can of course get you a better return if you're willing to lock up the principal for longer than six months."

  I stared at him, confused, then it hit me. He thought I was disappointed in the return! "No, this is fine. I... yeah, this is fine."

  He smiled, clearly relieved. "Excellent. You're a valued customer and of course we'd like to do our best for you."

  Last month they had charged their "valued customer" fees when her account had dipped one cent below its thousand-dollar minimum, but I didn't argue.

  He arranged for the line of credit I'd been offered the day before, and also arranged to have enough of that money transferred to my checking account to cover the gifts I'd given my siblings. Tuesday had informed me, to my surprise, that writing checks when I knew I didn't have the money to cover them was illegal even though I would have the money when they were cashed, but Ted didn't seem bothered at all. I couldn't help wondering whether he would have been if I'd written those checks last week, although I felt sure I knew the answer. There were indeed different rules for the rich.