Winter Moon

bring Tommy Fernandez back to life, even if it meant that this inheritance would never have been hers and Jack's, but the cold truth was that Tommy was dead, in the ground over sixteen months now, and beyond the help of anyone. Fate was too often malicious, too seldom generous. She would be a fool to greet this staggering beneficence with a frown. Her first thought was to call Jack at work.
        She went to the wall phone, dialed part of the number, then hung up.
        This was once-in-a-lifetime news. She would never have another opportunity to spring something this deliriously wonderful on him, and she must not screw it up. For one thing, she wanted to see his face when he heard about the inheritance. She took the notepad and pencil from the holder beside the phone and returned to the table, where she read the letter again. She wrote out a list of questions for Paul Youngblood, then returned to the phone and called him in Eagle's Roost, Montana. When Heather identified herself to the attorney's secretary and then to the man himself, her voice was tremil she was half afraid he would tell her there had been a mistake. Maybe someone had contested the will. Or maybe a more recent will had been found, which negated the one naming Jack as the sole heir. A thousand maybes.
        Rush-hour traffic was even worse than usual. Dinner was delayed because Jack got home more than half an hour late, tired and frazzled but putting on a good act as a man in love with his new job and happy with his life. The instant Toby was finished eating, he asked to be excused to watch a favorite television program, and Heather let him go..She wanted to share the news with Jack first, just the two of them, and tell Toby later. As usual, Jack helped her clean the table and load the dishwasher. When they were finished, he said, "Think I'll go for a walk, exercise these legs."
        "You having any pain?"
        "Just a little crdmping."
        Though he had stopped using a cane, she worried that he wouldn't tell her if he was having strength or balance problems. "You sure you're okay?"
        "Positive." He kissed her cheek. "You and Moshe Bloom could never be married. You'd always be fighting over whose job it was to do the mothering."
        "Sit down a minute," she said, leading him to the table and encouraging him into a chair. "There's something we have to talk about."
        "If Toby needs more dental work, I'll do it myself."
        "No dental work."
        "You see the size of that last bill?"
        "Yes, I saw it."
        "Who needs teeth, anyway? Clams don't have teeth, and they get along just fine. Oysters don't have teeth. Worms don't have teeth. Lots of things don't have teeth, and they're perfectly happy."
        "Forget about teeth," she said, fetching Youngblood's letter and the photographs from the top of the refrigerator.
        He took the envelope when she offered it. "What're you grinning about?
        What's this?"
        "Read it." Heather sat across from him, her elbows on the table, her face cupped in her hands, watching him intently, trying to guess where he was in the letter by the expressions that crossed his face. The sight of him absorbing the news gladdened her as nothing had in a long time.
        "This is…I… but why on earth…" He looked up from the letter and gaped at her. "Is this true?" She giggled. She hadn't giggled in ages. "Yes.
        Yes! It's true, every incredible word of it. I called Paul Youngblood. He sounds like a very nice man. He was Eduardo's neighbor as well as his attorney. His nearest neighbor but still two miles away. He confirms everything in the letter, all of it. Ask me how much a substantial amount of cash' might be." Jack blinked at her stupidly, as if the news had been a blunt instrument with which he'd.been stunned. "How much?"
        "He can't be sure yet, not until he has the final tax figure, but after everything's said and done… it's going to be between three hundred fifty thousand and four hundred thousand dollars."
        Jack paled. "That can't be right."
        "That's what he told me."
        "Plus the ranch?"
        "Plus the ranch."
        "Tommy talked about the place in Montana, said his dad loved it but he hated it.
        Dull, Tommy said, nothing ever happening, the ass-end of nowhere. He loved his dad, told funny stories about him, but he never said he was rich." Again he picked up the letter, which rattled in