Lucky Girl by Jamie Pacton (novels for beginners txt) 📕

I let out a shaky breath. “It’s a lot, you know? Not just the money, but the responsibility for it and trying to figure out how to spend it wisely.”

“There are people to help with those things,” Bran says. “Like entire sectors of the business world who can advise you.”

“As long as Holden doesn’t ruin everything.”

“You could just use the rest of today’s money to hire a hit man,” Bran smirks.

“Ha, ha, great plan. No. I’m not going to think about him. At least for today. What do you want to do next?” I pull a brochure out of my bag. It’s from the rack at the front of the museum. “How do you feel about exploring Lake Michigan on a private yacht?”

“I feel like that would be a mistake in late October,” Bran says. “But we can discuss over lunch. I’ve read there’s a very exclusive restaurant not too far away.”

“I’m not sure I can handle very exclusive right now,” I say. “Let’s go get tacos.”

“Done.”

We leave the museum and end up at a hip taco place that sits in a tree-lined neighborhood along the lakeshore. After tacos, we shop for a few hours, and I buy bags of books from a local bookstore. Bran was right that it’s too windy and too late in the season for yacht rides, but I file that away into a potential-for-the-future file.

“Here’s our next stop,” says Bran. He pulls up to valet parking outside an old hotel in the middle of downtown.

“The Pfister,” I say uncertainly, reading the name on the red awnings.

“Nothing but the best for us. We have massages in half an hour, c’mon.”

He hands his keys to a valet, and we walk into the lobby.

“Whoa,” I mutter as Bran steps up to the desk.

The lobby looks like something out of Daddy Warbucks’s house in Annie. It has a curved ceiling that’s painted with puffs of gray clouds against a bright-blue sky, totally giving all the Sistine Chapel vibes. Marble balconies run along two sides of the lobby. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and lots of rich-looking old people sit in the lounge off the main entrance, drinking cocktails in front of an ornate fireplace. The front desk is carved from dark wood, and a wall of frosted-glass windows sits behind it. Beneath our feet, a gorgeous cream-and-black carpet stretches the length of the room. The quiet of wealthy places permeates the room. This building is very old, and a lot of very rich people have walked through it.

“Are you sure we can afford this place?” I ask.

Bran grins at me. “You certainly can.”

I am not sure I’ll ever get used to that. But perhaps I’d like the chance to try.

We get massages. We do some more shopping downtown (I get three pairs of shoes and a new North Face winter jacket), and by the time the sun is setting, I’m down to just a few hundred dollars.

As we’re walking back to the valet stand to fetch Bran’s car, a young white woman pushing a stroller comes up to us. She’s painfully thin and huddled in a dirty sweatshirt. From inside the stroller, a toddler starts to cry. Snot runs down the little girl’s face, and she clutches a purple fleece blanket.

“Excuse me,” the woman says, eyeing our shopping bags. “Can you spare a dollar? I ran out of money for the bus, and I’m almost out of formula. And everyone I asks just gives me dirty looks. Like I’m going to use the money for drugs or something.” Her words rush over one another, and she lets out a frustrated sigh. She looks exhausted, cold, and desperate.

Bran’s eyes meet mine. I nod.

I pull out the remaining money and slip out of my new winter coat. “Take this,” I say, handing it to the woman. “You can get a cab to wherever you’re going and get out of this cold.”

The woman’s eyes widen as she holds the cash. “This … this … this is …” She just shakes her head. “I can’t …”

“Just take it,” I say. “Please. Find somewhere warm for your baby and for yourself.”

Then I hurry away before she can thank me or refuse the money or the coat.

“Jane,” Bran says, hurrying to catch up with me. “You didn’t have to give her all the money.”

There are tears in my eyes, which are not just from the icy wind blowing off Lake Michigan. “She needed it so much more than we did. It was the right thing to do.”

Bran slings an arm around me. “It totally was. And see, being rich doesn’t have to be all about buying stuff.”

He’s right, and there’s so much good I can do. It’s easy to see that being rich would be incredible, but the real question is still: How do I make that happen? As we walk, the beginnings of a plan begins to form in my mind.

Bran gets his car from the valet, and we start the drive home.

“So, what are you going to do?” Bran finally asks as we leave the city. “Any thoughts on how to cash the ticket? Or if you even want to?”

Before I can answer, Bran’s phone rings.

“It’s Sofie,” I say, picking up the phone. “Want me to answer it?”

“Yep, and I think you should tell her about the ticket. She’s excellent at listening and can help us figure this out.”

I’m not so sure about that, but it would be nice to have another person’s perspective. Even if it means one more person knows my secret. I click open the FaceTime call, and Sofie grins back at me.

“Jane! My second-favorite human in Wisconsin. How are you?”

Her enthusiasm is infectious. I smile back at her. “I’m good. We’re coming back from Milwaukee. Say hi to Bran.” I hold the phone up so Sofie can wave to Bran, who gives a small wave without his eyes leaving the road.

“So, what have you all done today?” Sofie asks.

I take a deep breath. It’s now or never,