Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
“Where is she going?” Nathan asked, turning his head to watch her disappear into the concrete stairwell.
“She has to find a lawyer of her own now, Nathan,” Frank said, adjusting his briefcase under his arm.
“Mom, you have nineteen million dollars,” Nathan said, turning back to me, his eyes wide and desperate. “You can pay off the bank. We can settle this without the police. They’ll ruin her.”
“She made her choice on the twelfth of September,” I said, turning my gold ring slowly.
“But I’m your son,” he said.
“And I am Gordon’s widow,” I said.
I turned away from him and walked down the remaining steps to the street, where Frank was already holding the cab door open.
“We need to go to the bank first,” Frank said as I got into the back seat. “We need to secure the physical deeds.”
“Yes,” I said, looking out the wet window.
Nathan remained standing on the middle of the courthouse steps, his hands deep in his pockets, his small figure framed against the grey stone columns as the cab pulled away from the curb.
