Fortune Hunters

What do you do when money comes in the front door?

"Jennie, close the door."

"Why? Is something wrong?"

"Just close the door."

"Did they short you on your overtime again?"

"No."

"Dennis, did you get laid off again?"

"No, it's nothing like that."

"Well then," she said, leveling her soft-brown eyes on him, "talk to me." She took the end seat at the scarred kitchen table.

"Something's just happened," he said, shifting his weight on the one chair with the wobbly leg. "But, I had to make sure first."

"They're taking you off the overnight shift, aren't they?" she said, in a voice rising with hope. "Well, it's about time you get your life back," she added. Now that once soft voice was growing stronger, bolder, in tone.

Then Jennie stopped. She stopped to study that open face she'd known forever now.

Her husband's tired eyes seemed glazed over this morning. Those same eyes, the ones that had asked her to marry him, before he'd even said the words, seemed troubled, confused. Now, as they were looking up, they seemed to be dancing off of the peeling, popcorn faded white ceiling.

This time, though, it wasn't for a lack of sleep. No, there was something more here.

"Dennis," she said, leaning forward, cupping her wrinkled dishwater hands on top of is gnarled, bruised knuckles, "whatever it is, just tell me."

"Things are about to change."

"Change? What's that supposed to mean? If you've got that promotion, or a raise, or-or both, that's great! If we could ever use the extra money, it's now."

He followed her nervous hands, as she began fidgeting. Now folded, her hands on his were turning blood red from the increasing pressure of her squeezing them tighter and tighter.

But his brain was still spinning from the long night at the plant.

For a moment, her voice seemed like it was coming out of a fog bank.

"We could pay off the car loan anyway."

Dennis pulled his hands away, leaning slightly forward in his chair. With a deep breath, he took out his well-worn black wallet.

Jennie watched him with a puzzled look. A single strand of grey hair shook itself loose, falling across her wide cheekbones. Not another bill, dear God, don't let this be yet another bill.

"Oh no, Dennis, we just can't take on any more debt right now. We've got the mortgage covered, and just this morning, I finally figured out how to pay off the dental bill."

Dennis kept his poker face on. His stubby fingers removed the folded piece of paper. He did it carefully, slowly, with a surgeon's patience. On unfolding it, he ran his palm of his left hand over the deep, black, bold print.

He then adjusted his glasses. He read the numbers off of the ticket. Then, he looked up at her. By now, not able to take much more, Jennie's eyes had grown wider and wider.

"Are-are you sure?" her soft voice asked.

"Positive."

She sat speechless, stunned.

"And you didn't tell me about this sooner...because?"

"I had to be sure, Jennie."

"Okay, so how many numbers did we get?" she asked. Now, her shaking hands were touching her chapped lips.

"That's just it. We've got all of them. I've checked and re-checked them, Jennie."

"And you've kept this all to yourself all night at work?"

"Yep. It was hard, but yeah. Not a soul, now it's just you and I who knows."

Dear God, this man could've worked for the FBI. Keeping something like this a secret? Sharing it with no one else?

Now, her eyes were just as wide as on that hot, late July night, when he proposed to her in the park, downtown.

"What do we do? Tell the kids? Call mom and dad? What?"

"We're rich Jennie," he said simply, bowing his head, kissing her hands. "That much I do know" he said, pulling her close.

"Oh my, oh my God! All of that money! Why, we can quit our jobs, buy a new house for mom and dad. Think of what we can do for the kids? Why now, we can travel anywhere, we can..."

"I know, I know, Jennie."

"Tell me how it happened."

"Well, there I was, just sittin' in the break room. It was around 3 a.m.. That's when they ran the numbers along the bottom of the television. Now, when I saw the first number, and it was the one I knew that I had, I took out the ticket. My heart was racin' when the final number matched."

"So were any of the guys with you?"

"Nope, well, just Anderson and Thompson," he said now, thinking back. "They had just got up and going back to work, maybe five, ten minutes earlier. It was just me, with this winning ticket, sittin' at the table.

"And you never, ever, buy a ticket," Jennie said, slamming her hand face down on the wobbly table.

"Yeah, I know. And that's the thing, isn't it? he said. Then he folded the ticket back up, returning it to his wallet.

"So what made you buy one now?"

"Your birthday's coming up. I just decided to take a chance. I let the computer pick the numbers."

Jennie stood up, now on wobbly legs of her own. She moved slowly towards the kitchen window. A sliver of dawn was creeping up on her morning world. The sun began winking just below the horizon.

"There's so much to think about," she said, wrapping her arm around Dennis' waist. He had now joined her there, looking out of the broken window-pane above the sink.

"I did a little checking, Jennie. In this state, the lottery winner can stay hidden, unknown, anonymous is the word."

"Why would we want to do that?"

"It would give us time to sort things out."

"Dennis, we're talking millions. Millions!"

"So, so you never answered my question Dennis,," she said, her voice now rising. "What do we do first?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Dennis, we're filthy rich. What do you mean, nothing?"

"Later this morning, after you call out sick, we'll quietly drive down to the capital. There, we'll have the numbers legally checked out."

"And then?"

"After we'll take our time to find a good lawyer, one we can trust."

She looked at him with different eyes now, with trusting eyes of her own.

"Then, we'll take six months, maybe a year off," he continued. "See, I'm thinking that it will take at least that long to figure out what to do with the rest of our lives."

"We can do a whole lot of things," she said, warming up to the subject. "Things that really matter."

"Yeah. But we could also be those kind of people who play 'Secret Santa' every year."

"One thing's for sure Dennis."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"You sure know how to treat a girl."

"Happy Birthday, Jennie. Love you, 24/7."

"Right back at you, 24/7."

THE END