“You will not!” Gracie and Cindy said in perfect unison.
“We’ll leave for five minutes to give you privacy,” Gracie said.
“Then we’ll read every word after you do,” Cindy added.
They scooted out, grabbing jackets, leaving MJ alone with what she assumed was a classic “Dear Jane” letter.
“Well, maybe I’ll finally get the truth.” She slid her finger over the sealed back and pulled out a single piece of paper.
Sighing, she unfolded it, angling it toward the fire for the best light on her old eyes.
Dearest Mary Jane,
She swallowed at the salutation and closed her eyes, steadying herself before she read more.
Six months ago, I walked into a gas station in Ocala, Florida, on my way home from a plumbing trade show. On a whim, I bought a lottery ticket. A few days later, I found out I was a millionaire many, many times over.
From that moment on, my life changed—and not in ways I ever wanted.
People I barely remembered started showing up, each with a hand out and a story about why they needed just a little help. My ex-wife and her daughters came knocking, too, demanding more and more and more. Overnight, the work I’d done my whole life—fixing leaks, unclogging drains, showing up for folks who counted on me—suddenly seemed…small. I didn’t know where I fit anymore.
I tried to live like a rich man. Bought a Rolex. Filled my closet with fancy clothes. Splurged on sports cars, vacations, and a house that felt like a big, cavernous prison. I didn’t know who to trust, where to turn, or what to do. All that money brought me nothing but emptiness.
So, I did the only thing that made sense—I ran. I went somewhere far away, a place where no one knew my name or my bank account balance. I decided to go by my middle name,left no credit card trail that anyone could find, and hid in the mountains of Utah so I could breathe again and figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
Then I met you.
It turns out the most beautiful thing at Snowberry wasn’t the lodge or the view, but a woman with auburn hair and a heart so big she made everyone around her feel at home. The more time I spent with you, the harder I fell, and the more terrified I became of you finding out the truth.
I didn’t want you to see me as a millionaire lottery winner. I wanted you to love me—just me. Graham Matthew Walker, the plumber.
That’s why I kept my secret, even as it ate me up inside. While I was here with you, I was also quietly planning what to do with the money. I began researching people and places with the deepest needs—the kind of problems only money can fix. Hospitals, shelters, families on the brink. I’ve lined up accountants to make sure every penny goes exactly where it should. All those times I went to town I was meeting with a local attorney who helped me figure it all out.
I asked you for a year, because that’s how long it’ll take me to get it all done. A year to untangle myself from this mess, to give the money away, and to find my way back to being the man I was before that lottery ticket.
When I come back, it’ll be as a simple man who fixes pipes and wants to court a classy, gorgeous, good-hearted woman the way a proper gentleman should. As far as the money, I’ll keep a little bit tucked away, enough to make my golden years easier, but the rest will be gone—doing good where it’s needed most.
While I do that, I want you to bring Snowberry Lodge back to its full glory and build the wedding venue of your dreams.I want you to give this historic lodge the future it—and your family—deserves.
So, please look under the sink in the bathroom, where any good plumber would leave a gift for you. The combination is 143.Maybe you can guess why I chose those numbers.
Until I come back, know this: I am and always will be…a plumber who adores you.
Matt
MJ sat stone still, holding the letter in a trembling hand. Suddenly, everything made sense…didn’t it? Was this story true? What was 143? Maybe he’d left…a hundred and forty-three dollars? No, this was Matt. More like fourteen thousand and three hundred dollars.
Thatwould come in handy.
It didn’t matter—this letter gave her the answers she longed for and whatever gift he gave her, headoredher.
Still a little shaky, she pushed up and headed into the bathroom, pulling open the cabinet door under the sink.
Crouching down, she moved some towels and guest shampoo and her hand hit something hard.
A metal lock box.
With shaking fingers, she turned the numbers to line up to 143.
