Her phone rangas she was getting into the SUV. She didn’t recognize the number but she was familiar with the Baltimore area code. She debated whether to answer. Telemarketer or Jay. Both were unwelcome. After three annoying rings, she accepted the call before voicemail took over.
“Hello.”
“I checked my account, Ramsey. There’s been no change. You want to explain that?”
She shut the door and huddled behind the steering wheel. The interior of the car was cold. She quickly changed the phone’s setting so Jay’s voice wouldn’t come through the speakers when she started the car. Among the many things she didn’t want where he was concerned was a conversation with him in surround sound. “Just a minute,” she said, pressing the ignition button. She checked the heated seat control and turned it to max.
“What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to get warm,” Ramsey said. “I just got into the car. How’d you get my number?”
“That’s what you want to know?”
Every shade of sarcastic superiority was audible in his tone. Ramsey held the phone away from her ear as if that could soften the sharp edges of his voice. “I suppose you found and memorized it when you had my phone.”
“Oh, good for you, Liz. Worked that out all by yourself.”
“I’m going to hang up if you keep speaking to me that way.” He did not respond. “Are we clear, Jay?”
“Clear.”
“Good. I told you last night that doing what you want required a conversation with my money guy.” Imagining Jay’s wince when he heard money guy, Ramsey permitted herself a small smile. “I arranged a phone appointment for this afternoon and was fortunate enough to get the time off to have that conversation. I’ll know something later. Don’t call me again because I won’t answer. I’ll call you.”
“Expect me at your door otherwise.”
“Thanks for the warning.” She hung up and couldn’t get the phone out of her hand quickly enough to suit her. She tossed it on the passenger seat and then set her forearms on the steering wheel and leaned in. Closing her eyes, she sat without moving. She didn’t have a thought in her head, only dread in her stomach. She had made a comfortable life for herself in Clifton. How much of what she knew would change when people learned she was a millionaire? Sullivan had decided against asking her how much she had won, but he’d find out eventually. She was worth more now than when she hit all six numbers. In spite of donations to favorite charities, the purchase and remodeling of her house, supplementing her income from the Ridge, and her own—mostly modest—spending, sound investments and an expert tax preparer meant that her substantial nest egg was growing.
Jay could have asked for so much more than half a million. He hadn’t, though. She didn’t believe it was an oversight. The fact that he hadn’t asked for more was what convinced her he’d keep coming back. He’d take a little at a time. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. But he’d take and keep on taking.
Would others? How would her friends react? Her family? Who would put a hand out? Who would never ask for anything but expect something just the same? Who would harbor resentment? Envy? Who wouldn’t give a shit?
Ramsey smiled as this last question flitted through her mind. That would be Briony and Maggie. There wasn’t much they gave a shit about. Each other first. Racquetball. The Penguins. And pearl onions, not olives, in their martinis.
Sullivan, on the other hand, cared about a great deal. Money was not precisely an exception, but he was satisfied with what he could live on, and he understood as well as anyone could how money, whether too much or too little, tested relationships.
Straightening, Ramsey placed her hands in position on the wheel. She had few answers and dwelling on the questions at this juncture was unlikely to give her any more. She put the car in reverse, checked her mirrors, the backup camera, and slowly rolled out of the parking space.
Fifteen minutes later, she was setting her security alarm. She made a cup of green tea and sat at the kitchen table to drink it while she checked email and waited for Woodrow Finch’s call.
As expected, her phone rang exactly at the agreed upon time. After an exchange of pleasantries, she got to the point of the call. Ramsey asked about the logistics of transferring a half million to another account. How long would it take to arrange? Were there tax complications? No, she wasn’t making a charitable donation. What stocks would she be selling to arrive at the amount she was requesting? Fees? Liabilities? No, she didn’t require the expertise of a Realtor.
Ramsey appreciated that Mr. Finch did not inquire directly as to how she intended to use the money. Since she had never made a similar ask, his curiosity was natural, and she did not mind that he poked around a little looking for answers that would ease his conscience and protect her from a foolish investment. She pictured him sitting behind the large expanse of his mahogany desk in his equally oversized executive chair, his high forehead creased horizontally as he studied her portfolio on his computer screen. His dark gray suit jacket would be unbuttoned and his striped tie would be slightly askew. He’d be looking over the top of his black frame glasses to read the screen and tapping a pen on paper when he wasn’t taking notes. He had a warm, welcoming smile that made him approachable, and on the phone, it was his reassuring voice that gave Ramsey confidence.
The call did not take much more than thirty minutes. She thanked him for the information and said she’d be in touch when she was ready to make the transfer. Mr. Finch could not quite contain his pleasure and relief when she said she wanted more time to think before she acted.
When she ended the call, she scrolled her contacts for Dudley. “I really need to change that,” she said under her breath, but she knew she probably wouldn’t. His shout of laughter when she showed it to him practically guaranteed it. He was a funny guy. Mostly straightforward. A bit complicated to keep it interesting. Was it really any wonder that she was falling in love with him?
She caught herself. Rewound and replayed. Was it really any wonder that she hadfallenin love with him? Was it really any wonder that she was deeply, irrevocably in love with him?
Nope. No wonder at all.
Ramsey considered that she was not at all uneasy with her epiphany. The opposite was true. The dread that had knotted her insides was gone. Perhaps her conversation with Mr. Finch had been a factor but only a contributing one. It was mostly the realization that she loved Sullivan Day. She wished she had come to it earlier. Then again, Aisle Fourteen was not the most romantic spot to declare herself a goner, though perhaps Sullivan wouldn’t have minded hearing about love among the lightbulbs. He was just that much of a Dudley.
Smiling, she tapped his number. When he didn’t answer, she figured she’d caught him at a bad time. She left a short message that she’d spoken to her money guy and that she was going to the trail for a run. “Be home around six. If you stop after work, I’ll order take out for two.”
She changed into her cold weather running gear, which included black thermal leggings, Bluetooth earmuffs, and a red woolen scarf. Once she was outside, she looked for unfamiliar cars among the few that were parked on the street. Seeing none, she got in the SUV and headed for the trail. She figured she had about an hour to run before it started to get dark.
She warmed up and stretched beside her car and then started a slow jog. The paved trail replaced an old rail line and ran alongside a gently meandering creek. The incline was so gradual as to be hardly noticeable, although it was more apparent when cycling. Ramsey increased her pace gradually. She had a playlist specifically for running that helped her maintain a rhythm. At the three-mile marker, she circled an empty, weather beaten wooden bench and started back.
