“I had no idea electricians did so well,” I said, shocked. I didn’t know exactly what Mir meant by “in style,” but it probably didn’t include budget travel options.
Mir laughed. “The magic of the lottery.”
“Really? They won?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh. I’ve never met a lottery winner.”
Mir laughed. “You still haven’t.”
“Or someone related to them. You know what I mean.”
“They won when I was three. It was for something like three hundred million dollars.”
“Holy cow! That must’ve been amazing. Did they retire?” If I had that kind of money, I’d retire. And buy myself a huge plot of land and build a house that had everything I needed. I’d write one or two books a year and spend the rest of my time reading. Although a love of reading was the genesis of my becoming a writer, ever since I’d started to write seriously, I hadn’t had time to read as much as I wanted. The situation was ironic, but I wasn’t the only writer with the problem.
“No. They continued to work. It’s just that they started to travel more. But what made them the real fortune is that they put the winnings into Amazon stock.”
The real fortune? “All three hundred million?”
That was the most terrible investment strategy ever, even though in retrospect it was a jackpot move. But in general, when somebody had that kind of money, they usually looked to diversify their portfolio.
“Almost all of it. They bought some Apple and Disney shares, too.” Mir shook her head like she still couldn’t believe it either. “The reason was that Dad just liked the name Amazon because he’d always wanted to visit the river. Plus apples were his favorite fruit, and Mom’s favorite cartoon growing up was Disney’s Cinderella. So they figured, why not? Dad had a good feeling about them, just like he had a good feeling when he picked those winning numbers.”
Damn. “They must’ve showered with fairy dust. That is the weirdest reason to invest in something, but I’m glad it worked out.”
“They lived modestly, too.” Affection softened her voice, her eyes. She paused, then flipped through more dresses. “Left us all the money when they passed away. We still haven’t touched most of it.”
That was unusual. Most people would’ve gone hog wild when they came into that kind of money. Hell, that was why so many lottery winners went bankrupt. “Why not?”
“Grandma didn’t want us to. She thought we ought to be contributing to society, not sponging off the trust. But even then, knowing that we have such a huge cushion provides a lot of peace of mind. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.”
That explained why some of the articles had said Killian was worth over five billion. It wasn’t all from his music. I’d wondered if music was important partially because it gave him financial success. But what was driving him was his passion—the need to create.
Now I was doubly glad I’d left him alone to work on his next album. And pound those damn drums to his heart’s content. I shouldn’t ask him to stay quiet all the time, either. My deadline had passed, and I didn’t want to get in the way of his creative work.
Then something else occurred to me, about the specifics of what Mir was revealing.
“Should you be saying all this stuff about his money to me?” I asked, curious why Mir was oversharing. Most people didn’t talk so openly about finances, and I didn’t have a face that invited people to tell me all their secrets.
She blinked slowly. “It’s all public, except for what I said about my parents’ bucket list. Some magazine did a huge article about Killian, and it’s all in there. Didn’t you read it?”
“No. I skimmed the Wikipedia entry, but that’s about it.” Then, because I felt a tad guilty about not knowing more about him, I added, “I didn’t want to pry too much.”
“Oh.” She frowned. It couldn’t be she was sorry she’d told me if it wasn’t secret. “Huh. I figured you’d look more into his background.”
“I was on a deadline,” I explained as my writer brain started to get that tingly feeling. “Don’t you ever worry that a guy you’re with just wants your money?” I asked in a low voice. “If the stuff about Killian’s inheritance is out there, people must know you have money, too.”
“Sometimes, but that’s why God created prenups, right?”
I didn’t think it was God who’d said, “Let there be prenups.” It had to have been overpriced lawyers who wanted an innovative way to bill a couple before they even filed for divorce. But I kept that to myself. Mir looked entirely too pleased. And I wondered if Killian would have a similar expression if he proposed to a woman with a ring and a prenup. Then I asked myself why I wanted to know what Killian would do when he proposed. It wasn’t like he was going to propose to me. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get married, prenup or not. I couldn’t even manage a long-term boyfriend.
“And that’s why I read romance,” Mir said with a big smile.
“For prenups?” I asked, utterly lost.
“No, for true love. Nothing else matters when you love somebody.” She looked at me expectantly.
This was the moment I was supposed to nod and say, “Of course,” even though I didn’t agree. Mom loved Dad in her own warped way, but love wasn’t enough. Not when the other person didn’t respect you. But I put on a smile. “Of course. True love trumps all.”
“And we really should get this gold dress,” Mir said, pulling out another risqué item from a rack. “It’ll bring out your…” She stopped. “It’s just so golden.”
“Let’s see first.” I laid out the maxi dress, and she laid out the other three she’d picked out on a T-shirt table.
“You should get them all,” Mir said.
“I don’t think so. But I’ll try them all on.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Killian
Mir’s impromptu visit wasn’t like her, and it worried me. She didn’t just eat like a kid; she had the boundless energy of a kid as well. And a substandard filter between her brain and mouth. I still marveled that she was an accountant. She definitely didn’t fit the stereotype.
She was going to pour out all sorts of thoughts and stories, whatever flitted through her mind, to Emily. I prayed she didn’t say anything embarrassing, or overwhelm Emily by trying to do everything she’d ever wanted to do with her favorite author in one afternoon.
When my phone buzzed, I picked it up immediately. It was probably an SOS from Emily. Then I realized she didn’t have my number. I should’ve given it to her before I left.
–Mir: Hey, Emily and I are going to Sam’s Brew to celebrate her new book. You should come.
Was that even Emily’s idea?
–Me: Are you dragging her out to the bar?
–Mir: No. She finished her book! She deserves some fun, don’t you think?
I wasn’t sure if that was Emily’s idea of “fun,” and wondered if I should’ve stayed around to rescue her from Mir. Since it was too late to stop the outing without looking like a weirdo, I decided to do the next best thing.