"We're still paying," Suzie said. "I assumed . . ."
"It's yours. It's all yours. God, I don't want it; I don't deserve it. I've felt like shit for years for not paying enough to help Ma."
"I thought . . ." Suzie began.
"Suzie, don't think; say what's on our minds, talk, ask questions. We can't assume anything. We wasted so many years."
I was furious. For years I scrimped by on the small amount of house money Doug allotted while he kept a private slush fund for his own pleasure. But where was it? How much was in it? We knew the account remained untouched, at least for the five years since Doug's death. While not a fortune, it had grown to a substantial amount.
"I'll find it big sister and it's yours." She began to protest but I wouldn't hear of it. "I couldn't touch it; it's like thirty pieces of silver; blood money. Use it for college." It was her turn to cry.
I received the promised thank you note from Karen a few days after returning home. It was so formal it was scary that a twelve-year-old could write it but I was sure she had.
Dear Sarah,
It was most thoughtful of you to purchase books and articles of clothing for me. The clothes are stylish and I have begun reading my new literary works. I'm certain I'll find them fascinating. I have not forgotten your kind offer to take me to the cinema if you should return to our area. While I have not decided on which film offering I would most enjoy, I feel confident a choice made by you would be delightful and educational. Again, thank you for your kindness.
Karen North
At my sister's suggestion, I decided to telephone Karen. Just getting the phone call through to her produced further insight into the world of the protected rich. Mrs. Doberchek's replacement, Miss Iverson, acted as if I was either a kidnapper or a magazine seller, refused to let me speak with Karen until it was cleared with higher authority. I tersely pointed out I had just finished speaking to her father and asked if she'd please put Karen on the line. She refused.
"If you'll give me your number, I'll investigate and call you back with a time you may speak to Miss North. I don't know who you are and I'm charged with protecting this child." Investigate me? I wanted to tell this bitch I'd call Paul and demand he fire her ass but I humbly gave her my number. It was the following evening before I received permission to call Karen. I was to telephone at four the following afternoon. Don't the rich realize some people work for a living? I hung up on Miss Tight-butt, steaming mad.