Burn

"I’ll carry the pitchfork," Jenner muttered.

"I bet you would. Still, we can put a hundred and fifty million to serious work." She put some more numbers into the calculator. "A return rate of four percent would give you an annual discretionary income of around six million, without ever touching the principal. And four percent is a low estimate. You should make more."

Okay. Wow. Six million a year, without drawing down the principal at all. She didn’t need six million, she could live on a lot less, so that much could stay in her investments, working and earning. The more she had, the more interest it earned, and her worth kept growing. She felt as if a door had just opened, and she could see what was inside the room. She got it.

All she had to do was be smart, and not blow it.

Al launched into a mini-lecture about the variety of investments available – stocks and dividends, Treasury bills, and high-level debt. Jenner didn’t pretend to understand it all, but she absorbed what she could and asked a hundred questions. She set her own requirements: no one would be moving her money around without her permission. She didn’t want to find that Al or anyone else at Payne Echols had decided to invest her money in a risky stock or whatever, and she’d lost everything. She wanted to be the final word on every decision. She also didn’t want anything at her house that would leave her open to theft. She wouldn’t put anything past Jerry. He’d do whatever he could to get his hands on the money. People like him were a big part of the reason most lottery winners were broke within five years.

Al set to work formulating a plan. A small part of the money – a hundred thousand – would be put in a bank for Jenner’s immediate use. Most of it would be in a savings account that she could easily access, moving money to checking as she needed it. She would also need a safe-deposit box where she could keep all her papers, and no one else could get to them unless she personally granted that person access. Al would work up an investment plan, and when Jenner claimed her winnings she could have the money transferred directly into those accounts.

Jenner breathed a sigh of relief. She wouldn’t claim the money until everything was in place, but Al said she’d put everything else on the back burner and get all the paperwork prepared. In another week, at the latest, she’d be ready.

Once the plans were hammered out and she was back in the Goose, Jenner blew out a huge breath. She’d walked out of Payne Echols somehow … changed. She was part of the financial world now, and it felt strange, but exciting. Her heart was beating faster, and she felt like laughing and dancing. She wanted to celebrate. She was a multimillionaire! Well, almost. Soon. A week at the most.

She glanced at her watch. Michelle would be at lunch. Grabbing her cell phone, she paused for a split second as she considered how expensive cell minutes were – maybe she should wait until she was home, and use the regular phone – then reality smacked her in the face again and she laughed. Her cell phone bill didn’t matter anymore. She dialed Michelle’s number.

Michelle answered with a crisp, "What’s wrong?" because Jenner almost never called during the day.

There was no easy lead-up, no way other than to blurt out the truth. "I won the lottery."

"Yeah, right. Seriously, what’s up? Is Dylan pestering you? Has the Goose died?"

"No, the Goose is fine. I won the lottery," Jenner said again. "The big one. Two hundred and ninety-five million, though I’ve just met with a financial consultant and she says after taxes I’ll end up with a lump sum of about one-fifty Million."

A long moment of silence stretched out. Finally Michelle said, in a small, faint voice, "You’re serious."

"As a heart attack."

The next sound was a piercing scream. Jenner laughed, then screamed along with Michelle. She sat in the Goose, cell phone to her ear, and laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Her life had changed and she knew it, but at least Michelle was there for her.

"If you’re pulling my leg, I’ll kill you," Michelle finally choked out.

"I know. It’s hard to believe. I just checked my ticket last night, and I’ve been scrambling since then to get things set up. You’re the first person I’ve told – well, except for the financial person. Don’t tell anyone else yet."

"My lips are zipped. Oh my God. I can’t believe it. You’re rich!"

"Almost. Soon. Maybe next week."

"That’s close enough!" Michelle whooped again. "Girlfriend, we are going to celebrate big time at the Bird tonight, and drinks are on you!"

Chapter Three

HABIT WAS A WEIRD THING. EITHER THAT, OR SHE STILL couldn’t quite believe what was happening to her. Whatever the reason, Jenner went in to work her regular shift at Harvest that night; celebrating with Michelle would have to wait until afterward. She didn’t make the phone call to begin the process of claiming her winnings, either, even though Al was hard at work getting things ready. She felt almost as if she were prodding a sleeping tiger, and once that tiger woke up, everything would be out of her control and in the tiger’s.

She wasn’t ready to tell the world yet. She wasn’t ready to abandon all the normal aspects of her life. So she put on the ugly polyester shirt once again, went into work, and donned the coveralls and hair covering. She joked with Margo, she ate her usual sandwich, she did her job – and all the while she had the weird sense of being in two worlds at the same time, as well as feeling sharp, unexpected pangs of grief. She might never see these people again, and though she wasn’t close friends with any of them, they were still a huge part of her everyday life. As soon as she went public, she probably wouldn’t be able to do ordinary things, at least for a while. And really, would she want to work in a meat-packing plant once she had all that money? No, she wouldn’t, not for a single minute. But for now, this moment, she didn’t have the money and ordinary things felt special, as if she should savor them and commit them to memory.