The Winners Circle Read Free Page A

tear the house down and start from scratch.
    Chelsea buzzed about the room, arranging the chairs, straightening her clothes in the mirror. He watched her through the slits in his eyes. The woman was never at peace. Perhaps the influx of cash would buy her satisfaction in places she never thought possible.
    “ Chel?”
    She didn’t hear him, her lips moving, locked in thought.
    “ Chel?” he said louder. “What’s the matter?”
    She flopped in the vinyl chair and crossed her legs. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”
    “ I can see that.” He blamed himself. For a year, he’d worn her to a frazzle—a thread of hope that he doubted still existed. They’d been falling into an endless hole of debt and anxiety. Who knew there was a pile of cash at the bottom?
    “ I’ve been pent-up here all weekend,” she said.
    “ Why don’t you go home and take a shower?”
    “ Maybe.”
    “ Pull yourself together for work tomorrow.”
    “ I’m not going in.”
    “ Taking a day off?”
    “ I quit.”
    “ But you love that job.”
    “ I love vacations too. When’s the last time we had one of those?”
    His eyes were fully open. He wasn’t resting with her like this. He needed to watch her. She might skyrocket to the moon if he didn’t maintain his sightlines.
    “ I just had an idea,” she said.
    He braced himself. It wasn’t like her to make spur of the moment decisions. She blueprinted everything, organized the linen closet like a computer schematic, mapped out shopping trips like military assaults. He saw her on her feet again, pacing. He had the feeling that he’d been asleep for much longer than a single weekend.
    “ I was thinking,” she said.
    “ I was too. We can start that family, and ...”
    She flashed her teeth and gums. “How about a real vacation? I want to see Europe. I want to see Paris in the spring.”

 
     
CHAPTER 3
     
The King of Hopewell
     
     
     
    The secret was out. People knew about the money. The knowledge lay bare like Chelsea’s harelip. Jerry saw it in their eyes. Nurses, orderlies, educated doctors stared at the lucky couple, expecting dollar bills to seep from their pores. Jerry wondered if he shouldn’t just start tipping the staff, but he knew Chelsea despised overt public displays. She curled her finger in front of her mouth, like he hadn’t seen since high school.
    Nurse Gina Spagnoli pushed Jerry’s wheelchair toward the lobby of Princeton Memorial. He ignored the people who paused to check him out. Thank God, the hospital banned the press and television cameras. He looked forward to Chelsea and him being shut away on their broken-down farm, with the big black dog and dozens of Osage trees buffering them from the world.
    “ Where’s your wife?” Gina’s pink sneakers squeaked on the lobby floor.
    “ Bringing the truck around front.”
    “ Have you known her long?”
    “ Yes.” Jerry glanced over his shoulder. Gina wore makeup and a gold necklace with blood red stones. She’d taken to visiting his room whenever Chelsea went home. She talked about her skiing trips and her real estate job on the side. He preferred listening to her big time plans, rather than her suggestions of his.
    Gina behaved as if her every word needed to find ears. “I think people should have a lot of experiences.”
    “ Chelsea and I grew up together.”
    “ There’s been no one else?”
    “ Just her.”
    Gina pushed Jerry into the elevator, and they descended the building. He smelled her rosy perfume. Chelsea never wore scents. She jogged several miles a day and was built better than most women, but she loathed the attention wrought from perfume and fancy clothes.
    When the doors retracted, the light was dim. Pipes and electric conduit ran along the ceiling. Jerry squinted. It was like a completely different building. “Where are we?”
    “ The basement.”
    “ Is this the way out?”
    “ I saw the others staring at you.”
    “ I don’t mind,” he said, relieved she had