If Tyler heard it, he didn't acknowledge it, saying only, "I'll let you know when anything happens."
I went home dreaming of how Shane's kiss had felt and wondering when I might get another one. We hadn't arranged another meeting, and I knew it'd be dangerous to risk one, but I couldn't get it out of my mind. I had to put those dreams aside, though, when I got home and received a text message.
"Have you heard the news? Want to come up and talk?"
I frowned at this, then called John. "What news?"
He sighed. "Want to come up? Or should I come down?"
"I just got home and I should water the trees."
"Down in five."
He made it in four, and locked the door behind him. I saw him notice the new furniture I'd bought since his last visit to my place, and felt sure he was comparing it to his scruffy couch, but he said only, "I'm really sorry about this. I feel like it's my fault. Probably because it is."
I blinked. "What is?"
He grimaced, then pulled a folded torn-edged piece of newspaper from the pocket of his well-worn blue jeans and handed it to me.
Melinda Cameron had been so grateful for the caring and compassion of her friends and family as she tried to fight her cancer, but all that changed last night when she learned that one of those friends is using her illness for her own gain.
Diana Jameson, who appears to have fled the country, has been sending letters to charities and organizing online fundraisers "to help with Melinda's care" but has not handed a penny of that money to Melinda.
The scam fell apart early this week when a suspicious charity manager found and contacted Melinda directly only to learn she knew nothing about Diana's activities.
At this point police believe Diana has absconded with twenty-five thousand dollars of donations intended for Melinda based on the online fundraisers, but they are asking anyone who might have contributed privately to contact them directly.
I rubbed my forehead. I'd sent a check for an additional twenty-five thousand dollars to Diana for Melinda. "Oh, hell."
"I know. I really am sorry. If you don't want me looking at the letters with you any more, I understand."
I turned to him. "Why?"
His neck reddened. "I found that letter. It's my fault you gave that woman the money."
"But I read it too, and I thought it was a good plan. She's a scammer. That's not your fault, or mine. It's awful, though."
He nodded. "Talk about bad karma. Stealing money people thought they were giving to a cancer patient?"
"Yeah. I hope it bites her in the ass."
"With big sharp teeth."
We laughed, but my heart wasn't in it.
He sobered. "I really am sorry, Angela."
"Again, it's hardly your fault." I sighed. "It sucks, though." I sighed again and told him about Jackie and how unhappy she was with me because I hadn't immediately opened my wallet to her. Emotion rising in me, I said, "And Sydney tried to have me killed for what she thinks is her share. I could just give it all to her and Jackie and everyone else who wants it, but that feels wrong. Not just because they're being jerks, though. To be honest, I don't want to give any of it up even to good people."
He stared at me, and I stared back, horrified at my own words. "Can't believe I said that, John, but it's true. I never thought I'd be like this. I always figured that if I won I'd be giving money to everyone and it would be... amazing. I had no idea I'd feel like this."
"Yeah. And there's that lawsuit too. That can't help."
I blinked, and he raised his eyebrows. "No? Has that been taken care of?"
I hadn't told him about what had happened between me and Shane, of course. "No, it's still in progress. You're right. Just another layer of crap."
John nodded, then gave me a small smile. "Our Edgewalk was amazing, though, right?"
The memory made me smile back. "Definitely."
"So that's one good thing. And you were able to help your friend do the IVF, and Zack and I are both looking forward to this weekend's trip."
My smile widened. "Two more good things." But all of those things had been to people I knew, not to strangers or charities. Was that the way to go? It felt too selfish, too insular. But those gifts were the only ones that had made me happy.
Was it a choice between what I should do and what I'd enjoy doing? Was there no way to do good and have fun with it too?
*****
Saturday morning around eleven I was rattling around my apartment trying to think of something to do. I had already played video games, although they were far less fun on my own, taken care of my bonsai and repotted a few that didn't really need it just to have an activity to complete, and read through a few of the waiting request letters before losing interest. Fifty million bucks to my name and I couldn't entertain myself for a weekend without John and Zack. Pathetic.
I curled up on the couch and imagined the two of them having a wonderful time. I hoped they were. Tiff had kindly allowed John to keep Zack until Sunday evening so they wouldn't have to cut their trip short, and the weather was perfect, so with any luck they were enjoying some great skiing.
John had texted me Friday night after arriving at the chalet to thank me for the apparently amazing suite, and Zack had also texted to say, "You rock," and I was glad they were pleased with their present.
My phone rang, and a glance told me it was Jackie. I took a deep breath before answering, not wanting to get upset. "Hello?"
"Ang, it's me. Jackie. Look, I'm sorry about the other day. I should have understood you must have all sorts of people groveling for your money now. It wasn't cool of me to add myself to the pack."
Surprise and relief filled me. "Thank you, I appreciate that."
"I emailed you a plan about an hour ago. Have you seen it?"
"Haven't checked my email today. And it's on my phone so I can't while we talk. Call me back in fifteen?" I wasn't sure whether she'd get my real number if I called her directly and I wasn't completely confident of her change of heart.
"Sure. I hope you like it."
It took me less than a minute to know I didn't like it, even a little. Yes, she'd created a plan, but Zack's dreams of a private jet were more realistic than what Jackie had written.
I made notes and checked a few things online and read and reread the so-called plan, trying to figure out how to respond, until Jackie called me back and said breathlessly, "Well?"
"I read it," I said, "and I have a few concerns."
She didn't speak.
"Hello?"
"I'm here. What concerns?"
I pulled over the scribbled notes I'd made. "First, I see you're asking for two hundred and fifty thousand now."
"Yeah, when I started writing it all out I figured I'd need more."
But she'd assumed she'd get her yarn supplies from the manufacturers at a seventy-percent discount from retail "since we used to get that when I sold knives door-to-door", and I had learned with one Internet search that the manufacturer from whom she'd get most of her stock sold only at a forty-percent discount. So she needed more even than she thought.
I explained this, and that I also thought that her budget for rent and staff seemed far too low and that being open only eleven to six Monday to Friday wouldn't work no matter how little she wanted to work on weekends, and she listened without a word. When I'd finished, she said, "Anything else?"
There were a few other problems, actually, but I'd covered the biggest ones so I said, "That's pretty much it."
"Pretty much," she echoed. "Ang, can I ask you a question?"
"Okay," I said, her hyper-controlled tone making me nervous.
"Are you a friend or a freaking investment banker?" The control was gone from her voice and her words came fast as she said, "I made the stupid plan, like you told me to, but you're still not happy. What the hell does it take to please you?"
A plan that actually made sense? "Jackie, I can't just give you money because you ask for it."
; "Of course you can. You're getting what, a hundred grand a month in interest?"
I didn't respond, and I especially didn't tell her I was actually earning more. It wouldn't do me any favors.
"At least," she went on as if I'd answered. "You could give me everything I need in less than three months. And I could get started with maybe five days of your interest. Five lousy days! If you can't give me that, you're obviously not much of a friend."
The venom in her voice kept me silent. Five days really wasn't much, it was true, but there weren't enough sets of five days in my life to pay off everyone who wanted money from me. Where did I draw the line?
"Forget it. I thought you'd mellow out when I made the plan, but I guess not. There's an hour down the drain. Thanks for nothing."
She hung up, and I sat wondering how many actual successful businesses had been funded on the strength of an hour of half-assed planning.
Then I jumped when the phone rang again.
I checked the screen, not wanting to talk to her again, then wanted to answer it even less when I realized it was Cody.
"Angela, don't hang up. I need help."
"Why would I hang up?"
He paused for a moment. "Well, you haven't called me since Sydney... got arrested, so I figured you were mad at us."
He hadn't called me either, and I'd been bothered by it, but there didn't seem to be much point in mentioning that. "She's not my favorite person, I'll admit, but from what I understand you knew nothing about it."
"Of course I didn't. She's ridiculous. But... we can't afford her bail, and..."
He trailed off, and I sat stunned. He couldn't be asking me to free the person who'd tried to have me killed, could he?
I didn't speak, since I had no idea what to say, and after a long moment he said, "Gonna make me say it, eh? Okay, fine. Yes. I need money to bail her out. She's already been in custody for weeks and now they've postponed her trial to August. She needs to get out of there. And it's all just a big misunderstanding anyhow."
This was the first I'd heard of that theory. "It is? She wasn't trying to have me murdered?"
He sucked in a sharp breath. "Really? You're going to use the 'm word'? She was angry and hurt about the money, that's all. She wouldn't have gone through with it. She was so upset about you giving us gift certificates and no cash at Christmas, she just lost her head. And really, if you'd--"
He cut himself off, but he didn't need to finish the sentence. I could hear it, all too well. "If I'd given you more money, you mean. Then she wouldn't have needed to try to get at my will."
My brother was smart enough to know he'd painted himself into a corner. "She told me you'd be like this. But I figured I'd ask anyhow, figured maybe you'd stop hogging all the money and help us out. But I guess not."
"Yeah," I said bleakly, knowing my brother would never forgive me but also knowing I couldn't bring myself to pay for Sydney's bail, "I guess not."
Cody hung up.
I slumped back into the couch. Had I done the wrong thing? I could afford the two million dollars for her bail if I dipped into my principal, but even without knowing what Tiff would think of that I couldn't call Cody back and make that offer for one reason: he hadn't said, or even hinted, that he felt bad about what his wife had tried to do to me. I wouldn't have expected regret from Sydney, but Cody was my brother. Didn't he care at all? Or did he think my supposed stinginess did mean I deserved to be killed?
I had given him and Sydney literally thousands of dollars. Why wasn't that enough?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
After I muddled along for two more weeks, knowing I was earning about four grand a day just for being alive and having no idea what to do about it, John said, "We haven't gone through your letters for a while. Are you handling them on your own?"
"If by 'handling' you mean ignoring them, yup, I am."
He frowned, and Zack put down the game controller he'd just picked up and said, "But there are people you could help. I thought you liked giving money away."
"I did." I sighed. "I do. It's just gotten a lot more complicated."
"Can't see how." Zack took his controller again. "If anything, it's easier. Just see someone who deserves money and hand some over. You've got the bucks to do it."
It was the 'deserves' part that was tripping me up, not the 'bucks' part, but I did feel guilty about the stacks of letters so I said, "Okay, fine, you naggers. I'll look at them tomorrow."
"No time like the present," Zack said, doing such an accurate impression of his dad that we all burst out laughing.
"Jerk," John said. "But you're right. We can spend a nice Sunday evening giving away your money. Where are the letters?"
He and I hauled the oldest box out of the closet and Zack joined us in reading them.
Almost immediately I found one I liked, from a woman who'd written a novel she thought would change the world but couldn't afford to give away a thousand copies as she wanted to do, but when I'd shown the guys and they'd agreed she wrote well I sighed.
"Problem?"
I shrugged. "How do I know if it's real? She might be wanting the money for--" I stopped myself before I said 'breast implants' like the first letter I'd read. "Something stupid. She might not need it at all."
John nodded but Zack said, "So?"
We both turned to him and John said, "So that'd be annoying. Angela doesn't want to waste her money."
"But she said before that even if the guy's a millionaire you can still buy his coffee. How is this any different?"
John, naturally, looked confused, so I explained how Zack and I had bought coffees for the car behind us the day I won the lottery then added, "And I don't know how it's different but it feels like it is. You know, I looked up lottery winners online and a lot of them hire staff to investigate all the requests and decide which are real and which aren't. I guess I could do that but I don't want to."
"Staff might not have picked that shelter," John said. "You liked that one, and I think you were right."
The shelter director had emailed me the day my check had arrived, thanking me profusely for the gift of a playground for their residents, and I'd be attending a ceremony in two weeks for its unveiling. "True." I sighed. "I don't know. The money just... I want it to do good for people. But at the same time..."
I couldn't say the rest of what I'd been feeling to them, could I?
They both watched me intently, and they looked so much alike that I couldn't help but smile. To my surprise I wanted to share my confusion with them. "Well, here's the thing. I think I like having all that money. I'm not spending it but I like knowing it's there, and the more I get the less I feel like spending it. Is that weird?"
"I'm not sure 'weird' is the word," John said, quelling Zack who was clearly about to say I was indeed weird with a look, "but I guess it's not what I'd have expected. It can't be that you think you're going to run out or something."
"No, I guess not. But..." I shook my head, not knowing how to explain the ecstatic feeling I got when I saw my bank balance, or how to describe the almost physical pain I felt whenever I let even a few thousand dollars go.
I didn't have the chance to try, because my phone rang with the happy tune I'd assigned to Claudia.
"Hey," I said. "How's it going?"
"I..." She sniffled.
I sat up straight. "What's wrong?"
"It didn't work," she said, her voice heavy with misery. "Just got my period. Terrence is off watching a fight with his buddies and I can't bear to call him and... tell him..."
She dissolved into tears and I felt my throat tightening in sympathy. "I'm so sorry."
"I tried, I did everything they said to do, but it didn't work. I screwed up."
"It's not your fault," I said firmly. "No way. People get pregnant and stay pregnant even when they do stupid stuff. It's nothing you did that made it not work out this time."
"This time," she said sadly. "This is the only time. We had one try and it didn't work."<
br />
"Claudia."
She sniffed. "No. Don't."
"Oh, I'm going to, I'm afraid. I have to. Listen to me, missy. I can't have a kid of my own. But you can. I am begging you, let me give you the money for another try. Another five tries if you need them. Please."
She didn't speak for a long time. I looked at John and crossed my fingers, and he did the same and nudged Zack to do it too.
The three of us sat, holding our breath and crossing our fingers, until Claudia sighed and said, "Hoping Terrence will have another rich relative pass away is kind of unrealistic, right?"
I released my breath and my fingers and smiled at my boys. "Yeah. So you'll let me do this for you?"
"Are you sure? It's your money and you so don't have to give it to me."
"I know you feel that way. That's exactly why I want to do it."
She sniffed again. "What if I need six more tries instead of five?"
Though there was only a hint of her usual jokiness in her voice, it made me grin. "Then we'll talk. But let's start with five."
"Let's start with one." She sighed. "I did not call you to get you to give me the money. You know that, right? I figured our one chance was done."
I smiled. "I know you wouldn't have asked. But I'm glad you called and thrilled you're going to let me help. Now get off the phone and book your second chance."
"Hard to do Sunday night, but I will first thing tomorrow. I adore you. You know that, right?"
I laughed. "Remember that when you've got morning sickness."
"Oh, I will. I might curse you a bit too but I'll remember."
"I can handle that."
She agreed to have Terrence email me their banking details, which I still had from my first payment but of course wouldn't admit, and we got off the phone.
John gave me a strange smile, warm and tender and almost shy.
"What?"
"For someone who doesn't want to give up any of her money, you seemed awfully hopeful that Claudia would take it."
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 92