Windfall

by Jennifer E. Smith

  “Associate manager,” Teddy says, looking embarrassed to be making the distinction. He’s spent the last three summers working at a nearby sporting goods store, and they’ve promised him the promotion after graduation.

  “But that’s just it,” she says, leaning forward. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You have the money for a real college now. One with a great coaching program. And you don’t have to wait.”

  “I’m not sure if…,” Teddy begins, then trails off. “My grades might not even be good enough to…I mean, this only just happened, so I haven’t really thought about…”

  “It’s okay,” Katherine says, relenting. “We can talk about it more later. But a college fund is definitely going to be our first priority.” She pauses and her gaze shifts to me. “And I think we should arrange one for Alice too.”

  There’s a brief silence where I feel my face go prickly.

  “What?” I say, blinking at her. “No, you don’t need to—”

  “Alice,” Katherine says with a smile. “You’re the one who bought the ticket. This is all because of you.”

  Across the room Teddy has gone stock-still. He’s staring at me, his arms limp at his sides, his face ashen. The triumphant look he’s been wearing all afternoon has disappeared entirely. “I can’t believe I didn’t…,” he begins, then stops and shakes his head. “I feel awful. It’s just that today’s been such a whirlwind, and I wasn’t thinking….”

  “It’s fine,” I say quickly. “Really.”

  He walks over and sits on the coffee table across from me so that his knees bump up against mine. His face is very serious. “You bought the ticket,” he says in a low voice. “And you picked those numbers. I’m so sorry. I should’ve thought of this right away.”

  His brown eyes are focused on me with unnerving intensity, and he takes a deep breath, then sticks out a hand. I stare at it for a moment. There’s something strangely formal about the gesture, and I think again of our kiss this morning, the way his arms closed around me so tightly, the way we fit together so perfectly.

  “Half of it’s yours,” he says, his hand still outstretched, and I hear my aunt breathe in sharply. Beside me on the couch Leo tenses. “It’s only fair.”

  “Teddy…,” I say, though I’m not sure how to finish that.

  His arm sags a little, but he’s speaking fast now, the way he does when he’s excited about something. “You’re the one with the lucky numbers. You’re the one who made this all happen.”

  “It was just—”

  “It was all you,” he says, pushing ahead. “So you should be part of this. How about it? You and me?” He smiles crookedly. “Just a couple of millionaires?”

  Numbly, I shake my head, my eyes still on his open palm.

  “I can’t,” I say quietly. “It was a gift.”

  “What?” he says, standing up fast, and when I look up at him his face has hardened slightly. “You can’t just pass this up, Al. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

  The others are all watching us; I can feel it. But it might as well just be me and Teddy in the room, our eyes locked and our jaws set.

  “Teddy,” I say. “Really. The ticket is yours. So are the winnings. Thank you for offering, but—”

  He frowns. “Thank you for offering? It’s not a stick of gum, Al.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “There’s not a problem,” I say, lifting my chin, trying to seem calm in spite of the panic that’s starting to bloom inside me. “I just don’t want it. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” he says with a scowl. “I mean, you’re the one who’ll be missing out. Who turns down twenty million dollars?”

  “Actually, it’ll probably be more like 26.5 if you take the payout,” Leo interrupts, and we both turn to glare at him. He holds up his hands. “Just saying.”

  I rub my eyes, suddenly tired. “Can we please just drop it?”

  “No,” Teddy says, “because you deserve it at least as much as me, and I don’t think it’s so crazy that I’d want to—”

  “Teddy,” I say, cutting him off. He stops short, and I take a deep breath. “It’s not crazy. And it’s so generous. But I don’t need it.”

  He stares at me. “What? Why not?”

  “My parents,” I begin, but my mouth is suddenly chalky. “My parents…”

  “Her parents had a life insurance policy,” my aunt says, and I glance over at her gratefully. Her gaze is fixed on me, her eyes full of warmth. “Most of it will go to college, but there’ll be a little left over for when she turns twenty-one.”

  Teddy lowers his eyes, and for a second I think it’s over. But then he looks up at me again. “I’m glad they took care of you,” he says, and in spite of my frustration I feel a surge of affection for him. “But it’s not the same as what I’m trying to do. Don’t you want a safety net? After everything that’s happened to you? Don’t you want to know you’ll be taken care of for the rest of your life? No matter what?”

  I blink at him, suddenly less certain. For a second, I’m almost tempted to give in, to say yes, to agree to whatever he wants. But something holds me back.

  “I can’t,” I say, and his frown deepens.

  “What your parents left for you,” he says, clearly anxious to be understood, “that’s great. But it’s just…it’s a pile of snow. I’m offering you a whole iceberg.”

  “Teddy,” I say wearily, but he’s still not finished.

  “I don’t get it. I don’t get you. After all the awful things that have happened to you, this is something good. Something incredible. And you don’t want any part of it?”

  My eyes are burning now, and the room feels much too small. I shake my head, unable to look at him, desperate for this conversation to be over.

  “We’re talking about millions of dollars here,” he says, as if I’m not quite grasping the scope of it. “You’d never have to worry about anything again. It’s the kind of money that would change everything. Everything.”

  These last words rattle me. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and wonder if everyone can hear the sound of my heartbeat. I try to swallow the sob that’s in my throat, but when I open my mouth my voice comes out watery and muddled, heavy with the threat of tears: “Teddy, please,” I say. “Don’t.”

  His eyes widen slightly, but his face doesn’t change; he still looks wholly uncomprehending. There’s a long silence, then Aunt Sofia clears her throat.

  “Okay,” she says with a note of finality. “I think maybe that’s enough.”

  When I look up, they’re all watching me—she and Uncle Jake and Leo and Katherine—with slightly stunned expressions. The room is quiet.

  “That’s really kind of you, Teddy,” Aunt Sofia says, looking around. “But there’s a lot of other stuff we need to talk about too, so maybe we should move on for now.”

  Teddy grunts, retreating to a chair on the other side of the room, where he folds his arms across his chest with a look of frustration. Nobody else moves.

  After some time passes, Uncle Jake sits up. “Food,” he says, so suddenly that Leo jumps a little. “I think we need some food, right? Anyone else getting hungry? Maybe Alice and Leo could go grab a couple of pizzas….”

  “Sure,” Leo says, glancing sideways at me. “That sounds great.”

  Uncle Jake starts to dig for his wallet, but Teddy beats him to it. “I’ve got it,” he says, walking over to the kitchen; he pulls a few bills from the drawer where they always keep a small amount of cash for emergencies. As he leans over to hand it to Leo, he avoids my eyes. “Gotta spend all this money somehow.”

  It only takes two blocks for Leo to say it.

  “What were you thinking?” he asks, his eyes wide beneath his red woolen cap. “How could you turn down twenty-six million dollars just like that?”

  He snaps his fingers and I wince.

  I don’t have an answer for him. The enormity of what happened is just beginnin
g to settle over me. My response was quick and automatic, a purely knee-jerk reaction. It’s only now dawning on me that I just politely declined a literal fortune.

  “I don’t know,” I say as I breathe into my hands. “I guess I didn’t expect him to spring that on me—”

  Leo raises an eyebrow. “Come on,” he says. “You guys found the ticket, like, five hours ago. It must’ve crossed your mind that he’d offer you some of it.”

  “It didn’t,” I say truthfully. “It’s his ticket. Not mine.”

  “Yeah, but you bought it.”

  “As a gift,” I say, exasperated. “Why does nobody get that?”

  “Because,” Leo says, looking at me with amusement, “I don’t think anyone else would ever think that way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “Most people would be dreaming of all the things they could buy or thinking about how awful the economy is or how they wouldn’t have to worry so much about getting a job one day. Most people would be busy looking out for themselves.”

  “And you think I should be too,” I say flatly. “Since I have nobody but myself.”

  He turns to me, brow furrowed. “What? No. That’s not what I meant at all.”

  “It’s what Teddy was trying to say too. That I need a safety net.” I keep my eyes straight ahead as I say this, unable to look at him. “Because I’m on my own.”

  “That’s not true,” Leo says, and though he means it to sound comforting, there’s a hint of annoyance in his voice. “You have me. And my parents. You know that.”

  “But it’s not the same as it is for you. I’m eighteen now, which means they’re not technically responsible for me anymore.” I can tell he’s about to interrupt me, so I hurry on. “I know they’ll always be there if I need them—I do. But it still makes me an island.”

  Leo comes to a stop, turning to face me. “That’s what you think?”

  I shift from one foot to the other. We’re standing in an inch of slush and I can feel my toes growing cold even in my rubber boots.

  “You’re not alone.” He looks wounded. “You have us. Forever.”

  Forever, I think, closing my eyes for a second.

  It seems like such a brittle promise.

  “You’ve been here nine years,” he says. “That’s, like, thousands of family dinners. But you still think of San Francisco as home. It’s not that you’re actually an island, Alice. It’s just that you still act like one. And nobody can change that but you.”

  I dip my chin, staring down at my boots, then blow out a puff of frozen air. The words have a sting to them, and I realize that’s because they’re true.

  “I know,” I say in a small voice, and Leo gives me an officious nod, like this is all he wanted to hear. Then he begins to walk again, picking his way around the puddles.

  “Besides,” he says over his shoulder, “if anything, you’re more of a peninsula.”

  “Like Florida?” I ask, which makes him laugh.

  “Something like that.”

  We walk in silence for another block, our heads bent against the wind, and when we pause at an intersection I glance over at him. “Teddy wasn’t totally wrong,” I admit. “If I was smart, I probably would’ve taken the money. But it doesn’t feel like mine to take.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “The ticket belongs to him,” I say. “Which means the money belongs to him. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Right, but—”

  “Leo,” I say with a sigh. “It was the right thing to do, okay?”

  He gives me a look I know well. The one that suggests I’m not telling him everything. When the light turns green, we make our way across the icy crosswalk. Leo’s jaw is set and his hands are shoved into his pockets, and even though it might look for all the world like he’s lost in thought or simply ignoring me, I can tell he’s really just biding his time, waiting for me to admit the true reason.

  “Fine,” I say eventually. “Maybe I’m a little afraid of it too.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” I say with a shrug, “you heard what Teddy said. It’s the kind of money that could change everything.”

  “Ah,” he says, a look of understanding passing over his face.

  “Everything in my life has already changed once before,” I tell him, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “And I don’t really have any interest in that happening again.”

  This time when Leo stops and turns to me, his brown eyes are clear and bright. “I get it,” he says. “Your parents died, and your life got turned upside down, and now all you want is for things to be normal.”

  I blink at him. “I guess.”

  “And you got a bunch of money out of it too,” he continues. “Which you’d trade in a heartbeat for more time with them. Right?”

  “Right,” I say cautiously, not sure where this is going.

  “So now the last thing you’d ever want is more money,” he says, like he’s just solved some sort of mystery. “Especially a lot more money.”

  “Leo,” I say with a frown. “Stop trying to psychoanalyze me.”

  He laughs. “I’m just trying to figure out where you’re coming from,” he says as we start to walk again. “I do get it. At least somewhat. But I still think you’re nuts for turning down the money.”

  I shrug. “Maybe I am. But it just feels like…I don’t know. It’s almost too much, isn’t it? I mean, I’m so happy for Teddy, and for Katherine, because I know they really need it. But if you had the choice, would you honestly want millions and millions of dollars, just like that, out of nowhere?”

  “Yes,” Leo says, so emphatically that we both laugh. “I think if you asked a hundred people that question, they’d all say the same thing. They’d also fully expect to split the ticket, by the way. Which would be totally fair.”

  “Isn’t it enough just to be excited for Teddy?”

  “Maybe,” he says, softening. “But the universe owes you the same way it does him. Probably a lot more.”

  I shake my head. “That’s not how it works.”

  “You only think that,” he says, watching me intently, “because you’ve never had any faith in the world. Which makes sense, since it’s let you down in some really horrible ways. But what if this money was supposed to make it up to you? What if it was supposed to balance things out?”

  “Leo,” I say, frustrated again. “Come on. You know there’s not enough money in the world for that. And besides, not everything happens for a reason. There’s no grand plan here. All I did was buy a ticket. And it wasn’t even for me. The whole thing was a complete coincidence.”

  “Right,” he says insistently, “but it happened. So now you’d be crazy to miss out, especially just because you’re being stubborn.”

  “I’m not being stubborn.”

  He grins. “She says stubbornly.”

  “Leo,” I say with a groan. “Enough.”

  “Fine,” he says, holding up his hands. “If this is what you really want…then I guess I can live with it.”

  “Thanks,” I say, shaking my head as the pizza place comes into sight, the awning weighed down by snow and the window foggy with steam. “That’s really big of you.”

  “It would’ve been fun, though, you know?” he says as he hops up the steps to the entrance. “All those piles of money. Caribbean vacations on private jets. Skyboxes at Wrigley Field. Fancy cars. A stupidly big yacht. Our very own camel.”

  I laugh, thinking about Teddy’s theory that I’d want an ostrich.

  “I feel like that’s a thing, right?” Leo says. “Rich people all have weird pets.”

  “Uncle Jake won’t even let you get a dog.”

  He shrugs as he pulls open the door. “That’s because he’s allergic. I’m sure he’d be thrilled with a camel. It’d save him from having to mow the lawn.”

  Leo stands there waiting for me to walk inside, but I’ve stopped short, suddenly deep in thought. Because the minute I said Uncle Jake’s
name, the realization came crashing over me: that less than an hour ago I was offered millions of dollars, and in my rush to turn it down, I somehow forgot to consider the two people who had welcomed me into their home all those years ago with no expectations whatsoever.

  Leo is frowning at me. “Are you coming?”

  From inside the restaurant there’s a blast of warm air and the scent of garlic. But I hesitate, suddenly panicky. “Actually, I’m gonna run next door and get some gum.”

  He shrugs. “Sure.”

  “Want anything?”

  “Yeah,” he says, cracking a smile. “How about a lottery ticket?”

  I give him a withering look. “Funny.”

  But as I walk to the convenience store at the end of the block, my stomach is churning. I try to remember what Aunt Sofia’s face looked like after I refused the money, whether Uncle Jake seemed angry with me. After nine whole years of supporting me, of breakfasts and lunches and dinners, beach vacations and summer camp, ski trips and school fees, doctor visits and phone bills, books and computers and music—all those things that make up a life, all of which come at a price—how could they not be interested in a portion of that money? And how did it not occur to me to ask them?

  Leo was clearly right. If I’m an island, there’s no one to blame but myself.

  My aunt and uncle have always done everything they can to make me feel like part of their family. But as much as I try, it’s never been easy for me to completely let them in. In my experience families are fragile things. And being part of something—really part of it—means it can be taken away. It means you have something to lose. And I’ve already lost way too much.

  Maybe it’s true that I’m more of a peninsula now—attached but apart, connected but separate—but that can be a lonely business too. And I want more than that. I want to be absorbed into their little continent. I want to stop thinking that the worst could happen if I am. I want to be more daughter than niece.

  I want to belong.

  But that means trying harder. It means letting them in and including them when it comes to the big stuff—like turning down tens of millions of dollars. And maybe the fact that I didn’t is a sign. Maybe it means I’m even further adrift than I thought.