I snap upright. “Youwhat?”
“He’s getting us a number,just in caseyou decide it’s time to sell.”
I clench my fists in my lap. “Why?”
“Just in case.”
“We aren’t selling, Jonathan,” I argue. “Where is this coming from?”
“It’s coming from me being worried about you,” he says, matching my tone. “And seeing this clearly. You’re too close to it. Too distracted by everything else to see it the way you should.”
“You mean the wayyouthink I should.”
“Yes,” he says, not backing down. “The way I think you should because I’m right, and you would agree if you weren’t in the middle of it.”
Maybe it’s the money, the tumor, the reminder that Nash exists on the same planet as I do, or my mother confessing that she wonders if she married the wrong man, but at once, I look at the mayhem of papers and almost cry. I wish my dad—Ed—whatever I’m supposed to call him now—were here. He’d know how to manage this. He’d tell me how to remove my emotions from the equation, to stop being hysterical, and provide four easy steps on how to fix this like a wikiHow article.
Of course, if he were here, the money wouldn’t be gone, he would have dealt with my mom’s brain, and I wouldn’t know about my secret dad. He also would have warned me about Nash from the beginning. Oddly enough, I wouldn’t have wanted to listen.
If I had, I wouldn’t have Bennie.
That starts me down a whole new rabbit hole.
“Rue?”
“Yes.” I physically shake my head to come back to the conversation. “I’m sorry. I’m not selling. I’m—” I rub my forehead, looking from the paper in his hands to the papers onthe desk. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll find the money before we get married.”
“Find the money?” He scoffs. “You don’t justfindthis amount of money.” He sets the article on his desk and kneels in front of me. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. I’m—” I look at the papers. “Fine.”
“Maybe you should get away.”
“What? To where?” I don’t even mention the fact that the only place I can afford to get away to is a cozy nook under a bridge.
“Anywhere.” His eyes search mine. “This is a lot. You aren’t being logi?—”
“Is this about selling?” I cut him off.
“It’s about everything,” he counters. “We’re getting married, and this is a lot of stress. You aren’t yourself and sometimes getting away helps. Clear your head. Come back with a fresh perspective.” He looks over at the newspaper. “Go to the coast for the weekend. Meet your dad.”
“What?” He can’t have just said that. “Why on God’s green earth would I do that?”
“Because you need to take a break from all this. I’m going to the mountains for a few days with my brothers and friends for that long ride, but what are you doing before the wedding?” I say nothing because that’s the answer. I don’t have a lot of friends, I’ll see my sisters at the wedding, and my life is Bennie and the store. “It would be good for you. Aren’t you at all curious who this man is?”
I pick up the article and regard Rueben Vance’s mug shot. With everything else, I haven’t given much thought to meeting him, but maybe I am a little bit curious about the man my mom was so swept up in. But it’s not the fact he’s my unknowing father that I’m thinking of as I study the article this time, it’s the money.Worth millions today.
Millions.
“What if—” I look at Jonathan, my gears turning. “What if there really is a treasure?”
“Okay . . .”
“Maybe I can find it. If this was-was-was some career path for him, maybe he knows how. Or he can show me? Millions of dollars? That could—” Optimism makes my heart beat a little faster. “That could fix everything.”
“Your plan to save your business and pay for your mom’s brain surgery is to find some mythical treasure?”
He says it like it’s a joke. Like there’s no way in hell I would ever say yes. Like it’s not who I am.
