Finders Keepers Read Free

his wallet with all that cash, but he’d never trusted those ATM machines, that whole technological shift where money was concerned. Even the credit card had taken him years to get around to and a couple more to actually use. Old-fashioned maybe, but he still preferred a human face to a machine spitting out money at him.
    He caught up to Kate in Zellers, where she was busy choosing the fanciest Christmas tree baubles she could find.
    “Okay sweetheart,” he said. “let’s tear this place up .”
    Kate’s smile filled his heart. He’d often heard it said that money didn’t bring happiness, but goddamn, he sure felt fine today.
    * * *
    Bernie was waiting for them when they came out of the mall at noon, the limo idling next to him at the curb, Bernie hunched against the cold in his navy blue chauffeur’s coat and thin leather gloves.
    When he spotted them he hustled over and took Kate’s load of parcels, the trunk of the big Lincoln popping open behind him as if by magic. Kate liked the little guy: that moustache, hinting at a shady past, the quick, mischievous smile it framed, the way the street slipped into his way of talking when he relaxed. When they were underway again Kate suggested lunch and invited Bernie to join them. They agreed on a nearby Italian spot, Pasta e Vino , ordering salads and pasta from a pared-down lunch menu. The waiter was a plump, cheerful guy in a frilly white shirt and black dress pants who scribbled their selections onto a note pad.
    When he was gone Bernie said, “Now that’s what I like to see, a waiter who writes down your order,” and Kate thought, Uh-oh .
    “Exactly,” Keith said. “I don’t eat out often, but when I do I like to get what I ask for.”
    Bernie said, “And so you should. Irritates the hell out of me, the way some of ’em come up to you, standing there with their hands dangling like, okay shoot, nothing escapes this iron-trap mind.”
    “I’ll give you a classic example,” Keith said. “The other day I’m in Jimmy’s, I order a cheeseburger, lettuce and ketchup only, and a glass of ice water. The girl nods then goes to a table of six and does the same thing, nodding her head and not writing anything down. Twenty minutes later, by now I’m half starved, she comes back with a glass of Sprite and a burger—no cheese, no lettuce, the whole thing dripping with mustard—plunks it down in front of me and walks away. I hate mustard.”
    Bernie said, “And I bet you’re too polite to say anything.”
    Keith mumbled something and blushed, the sight of him sitting there red-faced making Kate laugh out loud. The waiter rescued him, bringing their drinks, a Sleeman in the bottle for Keith, white wine for Kate and a diet soft drink for Bernie. The food came a few minutes later, steamy hot and delicious looking. Bernie dug right in.
    “So, if you don’t mind me asking,” he said around a mouthful of penne a la vodka, “what’s up with you folks? You from out of town or what?”
    “No,” Keith said, “we’ve lived in Sudbury all our lives.”
    Bernie rolled his eyes. “Shoot, and I gave you my whole out-of-towner spiel there this morning. Sorry about that. I don’t know why I thought you was from out of town.”
    “That’s okay,” Kate said. “It was entertaining.”
    “We’ve…come into some money,” Keith said.
    “Say, that’s great. What happened, a rich aunt kick it or something?”
    Keith said, “No, nothing like that,” and glanced at Kate, giving her a mildly dazed look. “We won the lottery.”
    Bernie clacked his fork against his plate. “Not the six-four-nine.”
    “The very one.”
    “Ten million dollars?”
    Keith chuckled. “Ain’t that a caution?”
    “ Je -sus Christ on a crutch…if you’ll pardon my French, ma’am, but that’s phenomenal . I feel like gettin’ your autograph or something. Ten million, goddam. I had a ticket on that baby myself.”
    Keith said, “When those numbers matched up I thought I was gonna