Her fingers closed around the small box containing the lottery tickets he’d given her. Hey, maybe one of them would be worth a million dollars and all her problems would be solved.
She dug in her pocket for a coin and sat on the sofa. After placing the tickets on the coffee table, she began to scratch off the first one.
Nothing, she thought in disgust. The second one had a prize of two dollars. She’d just cleared the first box on the third ticket—exposing a prize of a hundred thousand dollars—when the phone rang. She glanced at the ticket. A hundred grand? In what lifetime would that happen? Then she reached for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Darcy, it’s Mark.”
The connection was garbled. She could barely understand the words. Even so her heart began to beat wildly as her spirits rose.
“Mark? Where are you? What’s going on?”
“I’m—”
The phone line snapped and popped. She could tell he was talking, but she couldn’t make out the words.
“—and I wanted to tell you goodbye.”
She froze. “Goodbye?”
“Darcy, you know I have to do this. I’m sorry. I’ll—”
He was gone.
She stared at the phone, then pushed frantically on the disconnect button. When that didn’t work, she punched in the code to dial the number of her last call. She waited impatiently until a computerized recording said that cell phone was not currently available.
For nearly an hour she hovered by the phone, pacing, begging, praying that Mark would call back and explain. Finally she knew she couldn’t keep fooling herself. She might not have heard everything he said, but she’d heard enough. He’d wanted to tell her goodbye. Because he’d decided to end things with her.
She sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. What had made him walk away from her? The fire? Did he really think she was responsible? He couldn’t. What would she have to gain by burning down the Hip Hop? The fire had left her with no job and no baking contract. What was he thinking? Or wasn’t he? Was he just reacting, the way he had about the money laundering?
Or was it worse than that? Had he realized she was now destitute and still had to pay for her brother’s schooling? Did he not want to be bothered with someone in trouble? Or was it that he’d never really cared about her? Had she just been fooling herself into thinking that she was more than cheap, easy sex?
Tears spilled from her eyes. She gave in to the loneliness and pain, sobbing until her throat hurt. She cried for all the time she’d spent alone and how she’d tried to do everything right, only to end up where she’d started. Abandoned and broke.
“No!” she said aloud, then sniffed. “I won’t wallow in self-pity. It doesn’t change anything and it only saps my strength.”
She slapped her hands on the coffee table and sent the lottery tickets flying. She gazed at the one for two dollars. Like that would help. She crumpled the one that hadn’t had a prize, then idly scratched the ticket with the hundred-thousand-dollar square exposed. The next square matched.
Darcy gasped. No way, she thought. She needed three matching to win. There was not going to be another hundred-thousand-dollar square. Life wasn’t that easy.
She moved the coin back and forth. Two dollars. Ten dollars. Fifty dollars.
One hundred thousand dollars.
She dropped the coin and stood up so suddenly she felt faint. She couldn’t believe it. A hundred thousand dollars? Had she really won that?
She screamed out loud. She was saved! With that kind of money she could pay for Dirk’s schooling, put money in the bank and not have to worry. She could work to support herself without sweating her bills every month. She could—
She paused in mid happy-dance. Her shoulders slumped and the dark cloud returned. This wasn’t her money. Mark had given her the ticket, but he wouldn’t have if he’d known what it was worth. She couldn’t keep it. Not with how things had ended. She didn’t want money from him. It was too much like being paid for services rendered.
* * *
Darcy left for the sheriff’s office shortly after eight the next morning. She still hadn’t slept and she felt like roadkill. It had taken her hours to compose a note to tuck in with the ticket. She’d wanted to say the right thing without giving away how much Mark had hurt her. She’d tried for flip but was afraid she’d simply come off as bitchy. So be it, she told herself as she drove through town. He could think ill of her if he liked. The bottom line was she was giving him a hundred thousand dollars.
When she reached the sheriff’s office, she asked after Mark but was told he was out of town. She left the sealed envelope with the desk clerk, then returned home. Today she would start looking for work, she told herself. She would also begin the process of finding another steady baked-goods customer. There were other restaurants in town. Maybe even a coffee shop in a business office. Or what about selling things in a kiosk at the mall? She would make a few calls, then prepare some samples. If she—
Darcy turned into her driveway. She jammed on the brakes when she saw someone sitting on her front step. Someone who looked familiar.
