Million Dollar Dilemma. Judy Baer

upset. I can’t say I understand that. How much money did you win?”

      I’d intentionally been blanking out the figure, so I said, “You know the big lottery? The one they drew for on Saturday night?”

      “Yeah. There was an obscene amount of money in it—around a hundred and eighty-five million….” His voice trailed off and his eyes grew wide. Adam has lovely eyes. “You won that?”

      I nodded miserably. “Not all of it. My office pool won it. Apparently nine of us participated and have to share it. It comes out to, oh, I don’t know, something like twenty million. What am I going to do?” I felt the tears coming again.

      He sat back, and I could tell he was stunned. He hesitated before answering, “Celebrate?”

      “I can’t celebrate.”

      “Why not?” His handsome face looked so puzzled I almost laughed.

      “You don’t know me very well,” I began, “but I’m the daughter and granddaughter of preachers. For them, there’s a whole lot wrong with winning the lottery—ill-gotten gains, potential addictions, deprivations of family and who knows what else? Gambling is frowned upon in our family.”

      “Then why did you buy the ticket?”

      “I didn’t know I was buying it. I thought I was putting five dollars into the office kitty for a gift for someone!”

      His face began to clear, and amusement crept into his voice. “And though you didn’t seek it or want it or even know you were a part of it, you won over twenty million dollars?”

      My shoulders slumped. “Yes. Isn’t it awful?”

      He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

      “I tried to give it back, but my office mates won’t hear of it. Even Cricket, who I can usually count on to listen to me, insists the money is mine. I can’t get my sister or grandmother on the phone. They’d understand my problem. I have to get rid of it somehow!”

      His eyes narrowed. “So you’d be willing to put twenty million dollars back in the hands of the people who approve of the lottery?”

      I opened my mouth to speak and snapped it shut again. I hadn’t thought about it like that. I would be handing the money back to people who’d use it to sweeten another pot. Then which was worse? Keeping it or giving it back? Suddenly I didn’t know. I started to cry again.

      Pepto, who didn’t like my tears, stood on my legs and tried to bat away the moisture with his paw.

      “Do you want to go back to your apartment?” Adam asked gently.

      Miserably I shook my head. I was terribly bad company right now and didn’t want to be alone with myself. “Can I stay here for a bit? Just until I can find my sister or grandmother.”

      “I guess so,” Adam said, obviously unsure what to do with me.

      I heard the neighbor across the hall, our built-in decorum monitor, flutter by the door. A smile pulled at my lips, but I was too weary to do more than twitch the muscles in my face.

      All this crying is exhausting. “If I could just lie down for a minute…” I sagged into the inviting softness of the couch. The leather felt cool and buttery against my fiery cheeks.

      Pepto curled into my body as I put my head on a pillow. His thick body was solid and warm against me, and his purr rumbled softly in my ear. The last thing I felt was his tongue licking the inside of the arm I’d thrown around him.