gotta go out and celebrate!”
“Where are you?” Jenner asked, not responding to the “celebrate” idea. Too many people wanted to “celebrate” with her, which of course meant she’d pick up the tab. After the first couple of “invitations,” that had gotten old fast. Michelle was one thing, because Michelle had picked up the tab for Jenner during bad times, but anyone else? Uh-uh.
“Huh? Oh, nowhere important,” Jerry said blithely. “I can be there in a few hours.”
“Don’t bother. I have to work. And it could be two months before I get any of the money.”
“Two months!” The blitheness changed to shock. “What’s taking so long?”
Good old Jerry, she thought. At least he didn’t pretend he wanted to see her because she was his daughter and he loved her,or any other sentimental sludge. “The claim has to be processed,” she said, giving her stock answer.
“Yeah, not to mention the state gets to keep the interest that two hundred and ninety-five million dollars earns while the ‘processing’ goes on,” he groused.
“That, too.” By her admittedly rough estimate, in two months the state would earn about a million dollars in interest—and there was nothing she could do about it, so it seemed pointless to waste time fretting that the money could have been in her account and earning her that kind of interest.
“Well, never mind. We can still celebrate.”
“Only if you’re buying. I’m broke.” That should put an end to any celebrating he wanted to do, she thought. In Jerry’s world, other people paid for stuff while he went along for the ride.
“Well, you said you had to work, so if you gotta, you gotta. I’ll catch you some time tomorrow, okay?”
He had, and every day since then, too. If he wasn’t on her front porch in the morning, wanting to have coffee with her—though of course he didn’t want to have the instant she had on hand—he was on the phone, showering her with fatherly attention that was all the more disconcerting because he’d never shown any before. She didn’t know how to get rid of him, because he ignored the hints that she didn’t intend to become Handout Central for him—if you could call blatantly
telling him
so a “hint.” The thing with Jerry was that he was so focused on what he wanted that everything else sort of bounced off him.
She didn’t know how to make him go away. She even had to admit to a tiny part of her that still hoped, somehow, this time Jerry would just be happy for her and wouldn’t try to relieve her of as much of the money as possible. Faith and hope were two different things: She had no faith at all in him, but she still hoped the leopard would change its larcenous spots.
Regardless of that, she took precautions. She didn’t leave her bag where he could get into it. If she had to go to the bathroom while he was in her house, she took the bag with her. Everythingrelated to the lottery, and the financial arrangements she’d made so far and the others she was making, was locked away in a safe-deposit box that she’d spent a hefty chunk of her paycheck to rent. The key was on the ring with her car keys, and they were in her pocket unless she was in bed; then she slipped them inside her pillowcase—just a normal precaution for a daughter to take, to prevent her father from boosting the Goose.
As she entered the plant, a supervisor approached. “Jenner, I need to have a talk with you before you clock in.”
“I’ll be late,” she protested, glancing at the clock.
“Never mind that. Let’s go in the office.”
A cold, sick feeling coalesced in her stomach as she followed the supervisor, Don Gorski, into his small, shabby office, constructed of white-washed concrete blocks, with an unpainted concrete floor, and occupied by a beat-up metal desk, some metal filing cabinets, and two chairs.
He dropped heavily into the chair behind the beat-up desk, but didn’t ask her to be seated. Instead he rubbed his jaw,
“Where are you?” Jenner asked, not responding to the “celebrate” idea. Too many people wanted to “celebrate” with her, which of course meant she’d pick up the tab. After the first couple of “invitations,” that had gotten old fast. Michelle was one thing, because Michelle had picked up the tab for Jenner during bad times, but anyone else? Uh-uh.
“Huh? Oh, nowhere important,” Jerry said blithely. “I can be there in a few hours.”
“Don’t bother. I have to work. And it could be two months before I get any of the money.”
“Two months!” The blitheness changed to shock. “What’s taking so long?”
Good old Jerry, she thought. At least he didn’t pretend he wanted to see her because she was his daughter and he loved her,or any other sentimental sludge. “The claim has to be processed,” she said, giving her stock answer.
“Yeah, not to mention the state gets to keep the interest that two hundred and ninety-five million dollars earns while the ‘processing’ goes on,” he groused.
“That, too.” By her admittedly rough estimate, in two months the state would earn about a million dollars in interest—and there was nothing she could do about it, so it seemed pointless to waste time fretting that the money could have been in her account and earning her that kind of interest.
“Well, never mind. We can still celebrate.”
“Only if you’re buying. I’m broke.” That should put an end to any celebrating he wanted to do, she thought. In Jerry’s world, other people paid for stuff while he went along for the ride.
“Well, you said you had to work, so if you gotta, you gotta. I’ll catch you some time tomorrow, okay?”
He had, and every day since then, too. If he wasn’t on her front porch in the morning, wanting to have coffee with her—though of course he didn’t want to have the instant she had on hand—he was on the phone, showering her with fatherly attention that was all the more disconcerting because he’d never shown any before. She didn’t know how to get rid of him, because he ignored the hints that she didn’t intend to become Handout Central for him—if you could call blatantly
telling him
so a “hint.” The thing with Jerry was that he was so focused on what he wanted that everything else sort of bounced off him.
She didn’t know how to make him go away. She even had to admit to a tiny part of her that still hoped, somehow, this time Jerry would just be happy for her and wouldn’t try to relieve her of as much of the money as possible. Faith and hope were two different things: She had no faith at all in him, but she still hoped the leopard would change its larcenous spots.
Regardless of that, she took precautions. She didn’t leave her bag where he could get into it. If she had to go to the bathroom while he was in her house, she took the bag with her. Everythingrelated to the lottery, and the financial arrangements she’d made so far and the others she was making, was locked away in a safe-deposit box that she’d spent a hefty chunk of her paycheck to rent. The key was on the ring with her car keys, and they were in her pocket unless she was in bed; then she slipped them inside her pillowcase—just a normal precaution for a daughter to take, to prevent her father from boosting the Goose.
As she entered the plant, a supervisor approached. “Jenner, I need to have a talk with you before you clock in.”
“I’ll be late,” she protested, glancing at the clock.
“Never mind that. Let’s go in the office.”
A cold, sick feeling coalesced in her stomach as she followed the supervisor, Don Gorski, into his small, shabby office, constructed of white-washed concrete blocks, with an unpainted concrete floor, and occupied by a beat-up metal desk, some metal filing cabinets, and two chairs.
He dropped heavily into the chair behind the beat-up desk, but didn’t ask her to be seated. Instead he rubbed his jaw,
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