CHAPTER 7
Apparently I fainted again when I saw the people clustered around my car. I didn’t come to until we were nearing my apartment building.
I looked across the car at Randy, who was driving with grim determination on his face. When he heard me stir, he turned toward me.
“Are you okay? You didn’t bump your head or anything, did you?”
I investigated the top of my head for lumps. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never fainted before,” I admitted, “except the time I had stitches and the injection to kill pain hadn’t started to work yet. I feel really silly.”
“If you were going to faint again, this was as good a time as any. I probably would have fainted, too.”
I studied his profile. “It isn’t true, is it? Any of this, I mean. Did Cricket put you guys up to this? What a joker she is.”
“No joke, Cassia. No prank. You and your office mates won a hundred and eighty-five million dollars. Of course, after taxes, if you all decide to take a lump sum, that will be more like…”
I covered my ears like a small child. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to know.”
The accountant in Randy got the best of him. “You can’t stick your head in the sand like an ostrich. It’s something you’ve got to deal with.”
All the things I’d ever learned about money from Proverbs began to tumble through my head like a bunch of rogue gymnasts.
Riches won’t help on the day of judgment…. Trust in money and down you go! Don’t weary yourself trying to get rich…. The person who wants to get rich quick will only get into trouble….
“Maybe I could give it away.” A flutter of hope rose in me.
Randy swiveled his head to stare at me. “Give it away?”
“I could…” Then I felt as if I’d smacked myself in the face. “But I don’t even know how to do that!”
“You couldn’t just stand on the street corner and hand out money,” Randy said, his voice thick with sarcasm. Then he looked at me and I could tell he regretted being sharp with me. “You wouldn’t want that kind of money to go to just anyone, Cassia,” he pleaded. “It would have to go to good causes, to bona fide charities….”
“All right. Name some. I’ll call them.” Didn’t anyone understand how catastrophic this was? I’m the last person on earth who should be entrusted with this kind of money. I’m completely inexperienced with large sums of cash. Besides, Christians are squeamish about things like the lottery. Even though the Bible doesn’t expressly say don’t do it, there are many reasons not to. For me to take lottery money as my own was nearly unthinkable.
I sat back to consider my nonexistent options.
“I’m pretty clear on the fact that I can’t take it, Randy. Proverbs 28:22 is the clincher, don’t you think?”
The blank expression on his face told me he hadn’t been thinking that at all.
“‘Trying to get rich quick is evil and leads to poverty,’” I quoted. “I really can’t afford to get any more poverty-stricken than I already am, you know. Except for that twenty million, I’m barely making it right now.”
He gave me a very pained expression. “Listen to me, Cassia. I want you to go home and talk to your family and friends. Then call an attorney. He’ll probably have you contact your banker or investment counselor and an accountant. Let those people help you decide.” His look was pleading. “You’ll do that, won’t you?”
“I suppose it’s a good idea. My sister is a loan officer in a bank. She could help me.”
Randy looked relieved. I felt like hugging him for caring.
“She won’t believe me. She’ll say I’ve been dreaming.”
“And in twenty-four hours, after you go to lottery headquarters, she won’t be able to say that. The press will be there. You and your winnings will be front-page news.”
“I don’t know why everyone wants to rush in and get their money right away. Don’t we have to wait for…for something? Anything?”
“There’s probably not much sense in waiting. With so many of you involved, the news is out anyway.”
Twenty-four hours. I have twenty-four hours to get used to the idea of being a millionaire. It’s just not right. After all, I’ve had twenty-eight years practicing to be a pauper.
Randy pulled up in front of my building, hopped out of the car and ran around to my side to help me out. I guess I wasn’t as steady as I thought, because I nearly pitched forward out the door and onto the sidewalk.
Fortunately Adam Cavanaugh came around the corner at that moment carrying a bag of groceries. When he saw Randy trying to prop me up, he set down the groceries and strode over.
“Cassia, are you okay?”
Well, do I look okay?
“She’s had a shock. I offered to bring her home, but…”
“I can take her from here,” Adam said briskly. “I live in the apartment below hers.”
“Is that okay with you, Cassia?” Randy asked. He looked worried about turning me over to this big, rugged-looking stranger.
“Sure. Why not?” I was giddy and feeling light-headed. At the moment I wasn’t sure I’d care if he handed me off to a boatful of tuna fishermen.
I’m not a little girl—I’m five feet eight inches tall—but Adam somehow managed to scoop me up and carry me into the building.
“She can sit at my place until she’s feeling better,” he told Randy, who’d carried the groceries in behind us. “What happened to her?”
Randy sighed and shrugged. “It’s pretty hard to explain. I think Cassia should tell you.” He turned to me. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Fit as a fiddle. Right as rain,” I yammered.
He took his business card out of the silver card case in his pocket and scribbled on it. “I put my home number on the back. If you need anything, call me.” Randy gave me a compassionate glance. “I’ll say a prayer for you, Cassia.”
“You’re a saint, but I’m going to be fine. Really.”
As soon as I figure out how to get rid of this money.
Reluctantly he backed out of the apartment. Adam gave him a reassuring nod and he disappeared.
Adam turned to me. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth and shut it again. How did I tell him that by tomorrow at this time I would own more money than any person in the world should have? It is obviously impossible to convince anyone that I don’t want or
