Jake leaps up and digs into the pocket of his jeans. “But this might. I checked out the ticket. Four numbers. She got four winning numbers.”
I grab it. “You’re kidding! You’re sure?”
“Would I kid you?”
I turn the ticket over. Look at the numbers again. They still don’t mean anything to me. “It really is a winner?”
“Yes. Four numbers. But it’s maybe not the millions your mother told you…”
“That doesn’t matter.”
He hasn’t heard me. “It’s only $763 and change.” He purses his lips and scrunches up his nose. “Sorry it isn’t better news.” His voice brightens. “But seven hundred bucks? There’s a lot you can do with that. You must think so too.”
Sure, there’s a lot we could do with seven hundred bucks. Seventy, even. But that’s not why I’m grinning. What do they say? It’s not about the money?
“It’s not about the money,” I tell Jake.
“It’s not?”
I wave the ticket in his face. “You don’t get it. But why should you?” I laugh at the baffled look on his face. “Don’t you see? She wasn’t totally delusional. That’s the point. Maybe she’s not really as crazy as I think she is.”
The words are hardly out of my mouth when the social worker comes back. “It’s a serious break,” she tells me. “Your mom needs surgery. She will be here overnight at least, so we’ve got to get you sorted out.” She steers me away with a hand on my arm. “Let’s go to my office.”
“Jake…”
He is leaning against the wall, holding his chest.
The social worker stops. She looks at him, then back at me. “I’m sorry. Is he with you?”
Jake moves toward us. “Yes. I am with her.”
I grin at him. He’s with me.
“Can he come too?” I ask.
“I think we better deal with this in private, don’t you?” says the social worker.
“But…” As I move closer to Jake, my elbow collides with his chest.
Bandit sticks his head out of Jake’s jacket.
The social worker shrieks. She drops her clipboard.
Jake and I look at each other and burst out laughing.
Jake and Bandit are banished outside. I can’t tell if the social worker is madder about the ferret or at Jake and me laughing.
But the look on her face was priceless. And it was the best laugh I’ve had in weeks.
In her cramped office, she talks over me every time I try to speak. “It seems that your mother needs more help than you can give her.”
“I know that. I called—”
“We need to get hold of her medical records so we can devise a proper treatment plan. And we need to know her next of kin. When was the last time she saw a doctor?”
“She’ll be okay. I can make sure she—”
“Your mother is having a psychotic episode, as far as I can tell. We’ll know more when she sees the psychiatrist tomorrow. And we need to keep an eye on that concussion. So we’re going to admit her to the ward.”
“She doesn’t like psychiatrists. The last one—”
“How about you let the professionals manage—”
“Let me finish! I know her. You don’t. She doesn’t need another fancy psychiatrist asking her more stupid questions that she can’t answer. And then giving her prescriptions for more pills that will make her sleep, or hallucinate, or get into arguments. Don’t you see?”
“What I see is a mother who needs more help than you alone can—” This time she’s the one who is interrupted by a knock on the door. She frowns with impatience. “What is it?”
A nurse sticks her head into the room. “There’s a gentleman here who says he’s—”
“I can speak for myself.” One pant leg droops over the top of his boot. His shirt is untucked. His hair is sticking up, and there are dark patches of stubble on his cheeks.
“Grand!” I leap up and hug him hard. Sure, I am pleased to see him. But I also want to protect him from the social worker’s prying eyes. “You came.”
“And about time, don’t you think?” He stares at me for a moment, then turns to the social worker. “Now that I’m here, you can tell me what’s going on.”
She looks at her notes. “Mr. Kennett, I presume? Do sit down. Leni. How about you wait outside while your grandfather and I go over a few things?”
Grand grabs my hand. “This girl has brought things this far. She needs to know where we’re going from here. Sit down, pet.”
While words flow back and forth across the desk, I hold on to the arms of the chair in case I float away with relief.