Finders Keepers Read Free Page A

bust a blood vessel and die. I must’ve checked ’em a hundred times.” He looked at Kate. “Honey, did I check ’em a hundred times?”
    “Two hundred,” Kate said, recalling their dizzy morning in the mall, Keith stopping every few minutes to compare his numbers to the winners, shaking his head each time. “You made me check them a hundred times.”
    “I was gonna ask you how it feels,” Bernie said. “Dumb question.”
    “Feels great.”
    “So what’s the plan? You’re gonna need me a couple days, right? Motor you around in style? I got nothing booked now ’til Christmas. That’s five days.” Bernie’s eyes widened and Kate could almost see the idea crystallizing behind them. He said, “You gotta go to Toronto, right? To cash in your ticket?”
    Keith said, “Yep. If the weather holds we thought we’d drive down later this afternoon. We usually spend Christmas at my sister’s place in Toronto anyway. Lee’s the only one with grandkids, nine of ’em, and we all like to be there for the kids. We thought we’d get some more gifts bought, you know, special things, then stay with them the few extra days.”
    “You’re not gonna fly?”
    Kate said, “Dad’s got this…thing about flying.”
    “I heard that,” Bernie said. “I watch those Life Against Death videos, Caught on Camera , you seen those?” The Whipples nodded in unison. “I’d sooner walk than get on a plane. Spam in a can.” He looked at Keith. “What kind of car you got?”
    “I don’t drive, but Katie’s got a nice little Honda Civic.”
    “And you think you’re gonna get all that gear you bought to Toronto in a Civic? Listen, let me take you. On dry pavement it’s a four hour drive, why not do it in comfort? It’ll be fun. Roll up to that lottery office in style. I’ll even cut you a deal.” Bernie grinned. “Heck, you guys don’t need a deal. I’ll do it for twice my usual fee. How’s that sound?”
    Kate looked at her dad and smiled. “Why not?”
    Keith raised his Sleeman. “My friend, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
    * * *
    They shopped some more after lunch, mostly for the kids, Keith zipping up and down the aisles at Wal-Mart with a push cart, picking out dolls, Transformers, laser guns and noise makers of every description. By the time they got back to the limo the sky had darkened to an ominous gray, especially in the south. Keith barely noticed, but the sight of it struck a chord of alarm in Kate.
    Her father’s behavior since lunch had begun to concern her, too. His simple joy at winning had begun to shade over into a kind of low grade mania, a nervous energy that left Kate’s face feeling cramped from the continual smile that no longer felt genuine. It was like something was winding him up from the inside, propelling him at a rate completely foreign to his character. Added to this was a growing paranoia about the ticket, about having it on his person. Suddenly, getting to Toronto was priority one. That’s where the lottery office was and he was by-God determined to be standing on their doorstep when they opened for business the next morning at nine. With the frequent weather warnings—and now this threatening sky—Kate thought they should wait. But Keith was beside himself, convinced that if they didn’t cash the damned thing in as soon as possible it would spontaneously combust or he’d have a stroke worrying about it or the earth would open up and swallow him whole. Kate had never seen him so keyed-up.
    By four-thirty they were set to go, but at the last minute Keith remembered something his older brother Don had wanted since they were kids and re-routed Bernie back downtown. “Rodale’s,” he told him. “That fancy restaurant supplier. You know it?” Bernie said he did, and they wound up spending an hour there choosing an espresso machine.
    It was dark before they finally got underway, the trunk stuffed with Christmas gifts—lavishly wrapped by a team of elderly women raising money for