Lottery

by Kimberly Shursen

  She stepped inside the suite that always made her smile when she walked through the door. The hand-painted Victorian lamp on the bedside table that looked like an old-fashioned gas light only added to the early 19th century ambiance. The six-inch base on the baseboards; the four-poster bed; the magnificent Amish quilt, and the stately seven-foot intricately carved wardrobe; she loved everything about this private refuge. Just in case there was a cool night while Jenee and Justin were here, she’d put a few logs on the hearth.

  Ling walked out the patio door and onto the deck. On her way to the railing, she moved her hand over the small café table shaded by a bright red umbrella. She drew in a deep breath, tasting the sweet, salty air. The sun was just starting to rise as a choir of birds chirped an early morning chorus.

  A thought suddenly crossed her mind that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Maybe Caleb was having an affair. Maybe that’s why he was drinking too much. He’d met someone and was afraid Ling would try to take his money or the house if he divorced her. She bit her lower lip. Was this the reason he wouldn’t talk to her? With his good looks and money, he could have his choice of a lot of beautiful women. When she’d met him, Ling hadn’t pegged Caleb as a Jack Weber. But, then again, maybe winning millions of dollars had changed him.

  If their marriage ended, Ling wanted nothing. Giving up her dream of placing Chinese children in America would be difficult, but eventually she’d realize the dream on her own. A worst-case scenario would be if she were trapped in a loveless marriage. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, holding back tears. Oh, God, was she really losing him? To liquor? To another woman? Or had she already lost him?

  If Caleb refused to talk to her, somehow Ling was going to find out what was going on.

  n the cab on his way to the market, Caleb opened the paper and read the obituary again. “Victor Lee Sharburb. Father of five; grandfather of eleven; visitation at 11:30 this Friday at ten.” He closed the paper.

  Caleb gazed out the window, remembering the innocent man’s plea for help; the look of confusion on his face; the kind blue eyes of a father, a grandfather, and a volunteer for the Salvation Army. He wrapped a hand on the back of his neck. Why hadn’t he asked the guy his name before Caleb had taken his—

  “Fucked up big-time, buddy,” Weber said, interrupting Caleb’s thoughts.

  “Shut up,” Caleb snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The cab driver twisted his neck around and glanced into the back seat. “You talking to me?”

  “Just drive,” Caleb snapped. He was starting to get careless and shouldn’t be talking to Weber when someone was around. The cops would toss him in a loony bin.

  Just when the driver pulled in front of the Tokyo Fish Market, his pre-paid cell rang. Caleb’s muscles tightened. He quickly paid the cabbie and hopped out of the car.

  “O’Toole,” Caleb answered.

  “Did ya think you got rid of me?” Price scoffed.

  What the hell? Did Price know Caleb had killed an innocent man? Had he followed Caleb that night? “Why’d you think that?” Caleb asked.

  “I want to meet up in a couple of days.” Price’s tone sounded anxious.

  Caleb had known that Price would call eventually, but had hoped he’d been run over by a bus or dropped dead of a heart attack. Caleb shouldered his way through the crowd in front of the market to the side of the building. “We have visitors coming in from—”

  “Let me restate this.” Ron paused briefly. “I say when we’ll meet.”

  “Keep your cool,” Weber instructed.

  “Where?” Caleb asked.

  “Aunt Charley’s. Thursday night. You know where it is?”

  “Gay bar?” Caleb asked, hoping it wasn’t.

  “That would be the one. Bring the cash.”

  “I’ll be there at ten.” Caleb closed the phone, and walked to the corner. When the light turned green, he meshed in with the crowd and crossed the street.

  He needed to figure out to make Price disappear—again. Would this nightmare ever fucking end? Even though Ling had confronted him about his drinking, he needed a shot—just one—to calm his nerves.

  His lips parched and craving a drink, Caleb ducked into the first bar he came to. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, the tavern looked like a scene from the Wild West; pictures of cowboys and Indians on quarter horses and Pintos embellished the walls; worn cowboy boots and spurs were strategically placed around the room. The bartender, a middle-aged man with slicked back salt-and-pepper hair, smiled at Caleb behind a handlebar moustache. Caleb took the bar stool nearest the door, as he wouldn’t be here long.

  “What’dya have?” the barkeep asked, his moustache moving with each word.

  “Shot of your top-shelf whiskey.”

  “You got it.”

  Except for an older couple bellied up to the bar, there wasn’t anyone else here, but then, it was early. “This place like old or something?” Caleb asked.

  The barkeep set a shot glass in front of Caleb and poured the liquor to the top. “Ever heard of Henry Comstock?”

  Caleb downed the whiskey in one gulp with a shaky hand. “Nope.”

  “Comstock of Comstock Lode. Mining business. Big bucks.” He nodded around the bar. “Family owns it. Been here since l907.”

  Caleb held up the shot glass. “Quite the place.” He downed the liquor and nodded for another, his thoughts a million miles away.

  “Poison,” Weber whispered.

  Easier said than done, Caleb thought.

  “Just do your research,” Weber answered, “you’ll figure it out.”

  An hour and five shots later, Caleb’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen. Ling. He turned off the sound, paid the tab, and left for the market. He didn’t want to talk to her until he’d had a few cups of coffee. He should have something to eat, but the thought of food made his stomach turn.

  He had to stop drinking. If Ling left him, there’d be no reason to go on. Like he’d told her on their wedding day, she was, and always would be, his everything.

  enee stopped before she went through security at the airport. “Oh God, Justin, I don’t know whether I can do this.” She was terrified to fly, and wished she had a flight that went straight through to San Francisco. What if she missed her plane in Phoenix? What if it was delayed and had to stay in a motel in a strange city?

  “You want to wait so we can fly together?” Justin asked.

  “I’m being childish, aren’t I?”

  He grinned. “Hey,” he said compassionately, and lay his hands gently on her shoulders, “if you’re a child, then I’m a baby. My stomach globs up even thinking about flying in a piece of tin.”

  “But … I’ll be fine … right?” Jenee stammered.

  He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “No doubt about it.”

  “Love ya, big guy.” She wrapped her hand around the handle of the new suitcase Justin had bought her for the trip. “Take good care of Baileigh.”

  Jenee stopped when she took her bag off the rolling security belt and glanced back at Justin. The only times they’d been separated was when she’d given birth to Baileigh, and the stay in the hospital when she’d had the hysterectomy. “I love you,” she mouthed.

  He put his hand over his heart and patted it.

  There’d been times when Jenee had been so angry with Justin that she’d wanted to run away. But now, as she was walking toward the gate without him, all she wanted was for him to be beside her.

  As she anxiously waited for her flight to be called, she noticed people reading newspapers, or trying to calm their children, or sipping coffee from a Starbuck’s cup. Everyone seemed so nonchalant—everyone but Jenee.

  Her stomach did somersaults when she walked down the ramp and stepped over the gap between the walkway and the plane. Jenee drew in a deep breath and blew it out, forcing a smile at the attendant who greeted her. I can do this, she told herself.

  Watching the oth
er passengers store their bags overhead, she followed suit and pushed her luggage into the compartment above her seat. “’Scuse me,” she said and scooted past a beefy man who sat in the aisle seat. After she nestled into the small seat by the window, she noticed there were only three seats on one side of the plane, and two on the other side. Brittany had told her that the bigger the aircraft, the smoother the ride. This plane wasn’t that large. Please God, she prayed silently, get me to San Francisco safely.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?” Jenee flinched when the voice boomed over the intercom. She looked up and saw a flight attendant at the front of the plane pointing at the emergency exits.

  As the woman explained how to buckle the seatbelt, what to do in an emergency, and how to use the oxygen mask, Jenee’s thoughts drifted away. She only hoped the guy next to her knew what to do if they started to … she closed her eyes briefly … no, she was not going to go there. She opened the magazine she’d bought in the airport bookstore. The noise grew louder as the air pressure was being sucked out of the plane and her left ear popped. She reached into her purse and took out a package of gum. Her hands shaking, she took off the wrapper and pushed a piece into her mouth.

  When the plane started to slowly move backward, panic took her. She braced her hands over the armrests, her heart racing. She wanted to stand up and run down the aisle, shouting that she wanted off. Instead, she glanced out the window. It was too late. They were in line for takeoff. The engine began to roar … louder … louder. She was trying not to look out the window, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the world whizz by. As the plane lifted-off, her stomach felt as if it was leaving her body. She closed her eyes and tried to think of anything but what was happening. Had she left enough food in the freezer for Justin? Did her mother get Baileigh to school on time? What would Ling’s house be like?

  This was it. She was on her way to San Francisco.

  When the limo pulled into the driveway, Jenee saw Ling bolt out the front door and race down the steps. She’d never felt so happy that her feet were on the ground.

  When the car stopped, Jenee jumped out of the limo and hurried toward Ling, her arms out wide. “I’m here!”

  “Did you have a good flight?” Ling asked, embracing her.

  “I was a little nervous, but it was fine.” A ‘little’ nervous was an understatement. She’d stabbed her nails into the poor guy’s arm next to her many times throughout the flight to Phoenix. He’d been kind, however, and reassured Jenee everything would be all right.

  Ling turned to the driver. “Thanks, Max.” She grasped the handle of Jenee’s luggage.

  “Should I pay him?” Jenee asked.

  “All taken care of.”

  “Thank you, Ling,” Jenee said humbly, shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up. “Is this really a house?” Her gaze swept over the intricate trim, the towering chimneys, and regal turrets. Every inch of the front yard was filled with lush greenery and thick ground cover, with bright flowers speckling the well-manicured lawn.

  Ling laughed. “It is a bit overwhelming.”

  “Overwhelming? In Kansas, we call this a bed and breakfast.”

  They walked beside each other toward the house.

  “Welcome, Jenee.” At the sound of a new voice, Jenee looked up and saw Mei. With her wide, welcoming smile and outstretched hand Jenee knew she was as genuine as Ling.

  “Mei? I’m so happy to meet you.” Jenee hurried up the steps to greet her.

  “So happy you have come.” Mei took Jenee’s hand and tugged. “Please, come in.”

  The outside had wowed Jenee, but the inside was so picture-perfect that it could have been featured in Better Homes and Gardens. She put a hand over her chest. “Oh, my.” She wandered slowly between the sturdy matching curved stairways on either side of the vast foyer and into the great room. Drawn to the wall of cathedral windows, she nodded to the left. “Is that the Golden Gate Bridge?”

  “It is.” Ling came up beside her.

  “I’ve never seen the ocean.” Jenee stared glassy-eyed at the calm bay and the barges that looked as if they were floating in slow motion. She turned around and faced the living area, not being able to take in everything fast enough; the artwork on the walls captured inside ornate, gold frames; the overstuffed couches upholstered in a bold, colorful print; the white rock fireplace with an opening three times the size of the one in her own home. “I can’t stop looking.” Jenee giggled anxiously.

  “Let’s get you settled,” Ling said, walking back to Jenee’s suitcase. “Caleb should be here anytime and we’ll have some appetizers out on the deck.” Her phone rang and she took it out of her pocket. “Speaking of Caleb.” She opened her phone, then turned and walked toward the front door.

  “You’ve never been here?” Mei asked Jenee. “To California?”

  Jenee shook her head. “Never been out of Kansas.” She heard Ling mumble into the phone.

  “I not know where Kansas is.”

  Jenee smiled. “Right smack dab in the middle of the United States.”

  “I’d like you to come home now.” Jenee heard Ling say.

  “Ah … traffic nice there?” Mei asked.

  “Oh, my gosh.” Jenee rolled her eyes, “I thought I was going to have a heart attack on the way here. I’ve never seen so many cars.”

  “You have little girl?” Mei asked.

  “Baileigh. She’ll be four in a couple of months. Maybe someday I can bring her to visit,” Jenee took out her phone and scrolled down to a picture of Baileigh.

  “Oh, she so sweet.” Mei nodded at Ling and smiled. “I hope to have little girl around here soon.”

  “My mother wants a grandchild, can you tell?” Ling laughed and pushed her phone back into her pocket. She pulled Jenee’s luggage behind her to the stairs. “My husband is on his way home. Come on, girl.” She laced her arm through Jenee’s. “I’ll take you up to your room.”

  “I’d better drop bread crumbs if you leave me alone,” Jenee said, “or I’ll get lost and you’ll never find me again.”

  Ling led Jenee up the two flights of stairs, talking as fast as they could. When they reached the suite, Ling opened the door and waved Jenee inside.

  “I can’t believe this,” Jenee gushed, her gaze moving over unique decor. “This is so elegant.”

  “I love this room,” Ling told her, glancing around. “It’s like its own private tree house.” She started for the door. “Take your time getting settled and I’ll see you downstairs,” she said and closed the door behind her.

  Jenee was in awe. Did people really live like this? Her eyes settled on the paver-brick fireplace and then swept over the antique four-poster bed, the distinguished looking wardrobe, and the hurricane lamp on the bedside table.

  She opened the door that led to the private deck and walked outside. Breathing in the fresh air, she tilted her head back and felt the warmth of the sun on her face. Her gaze went down the street. Every home along the boulevard was just as large, or even larger than Ling and Caleb’s. She noticed she didn’t hear the laughter of children like she did on her street.

  When she heard voices downstairs, she went back into the suite. Caleb must be home. After overhearing Ling on the phone with her husband, Jenee was apprehensive about meeting him.

  Like the bedroom, the bath was huge; a gleaming white, claw-foot tub in the middle of the room; a large shower hidden by thick, glass blocks; two white terry-cloth robes neatly folded on the counter in between matching sinks with sterling goose-neck spigots. She wished Justin were here to experience all of this with her.

  She stepped out her slacks and unbuttoned her blouse. After she folded the clothes neatly and laid them on the counter, she walked into the shower and turned on the water. Everything she needed was on the built-in shelving; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, a long handled loofah sponge, and even disposable razors. The warm water pulsated over her muscles that were still tense from the plane ride. It felt like s
he was on vacation on the tropical island that she’d dreamed about since she was in her teens.

  When she stepped out, she wrapped one of the thick soft robes around her. After she scrunched her wet, naturally curly hair, she put on a touch of make-up and then dusted blush over her freckled cheeks.

  She pulled the pink sundress over her head that she’d bought for the trip, and then slipped on sandals. Turning to the side, she admired herself in the freestanding mirror in the bedroom. She couldn’t wait any longer, took out her phone and dialed Justin.

  “Hey,” he answered. “You at Ling’s?”

  “I am.” She opened the door to the suite, closed it, and walked the short distance to the stairs. “Just going to meet Caleb.”

  “Is the house incredible?”

  She started down the stairwell to the second floor. “I’ll call you later and tell you all about it.”

  “I’m just going over to your mom’s to get Baileigh.”

  “Tell her I love her,” Jenee said and then added, “don’t forget to—”

  “We’ll be fine,” Justin interrupted. “Just relax and have fun.”

  “Okay.” Jenee smiled. “Love you.”

  “This must be Jenee,” Jenee heard as she came down the stairs. She looked up and, in spite of his bloodshot eyes, Caleb O’Toole was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen. His blonde hair with a few lighter streaks running through it fell casually over his forehead, his dark tan accentuated sky blue eyes.

  “And you must be Caleb.” She held out her hand when she reached the landing.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Caleb grinned, showing his perfectly aligned white teeth. He walked toward her. “I get a hug.”

  When he pulled her close, Jenee could smell liquor on his breath.

  “You’ve met my husband, I see,” Ling said, coming out of the kitchen holding a silver tray piled high with gourmet food.

  Jenee noticed the twitch above Caleb’s eye and looked away. “Your home is amazing.”

  Caleb crooked his elbow for Jenee to put her arm through his. “Thank you, but my wife and mother-in-law take credit for the decorating.” They walked to the cathedral windows, and Caleb opened the glass open patio door. “Did you see the carriage house?”