Jackpot Summer, page 15
“I showed Beth a picture of the painting I’m working on, the one I may have sold, and she said it was ‘cute.’ ” Sophie scoffed. “ ‘Cute’ is, like, the rudest thing a person can say to an artist. I don’t even tell my students their work is cute.”
“My friend Mindy’s husband once called our house in Westfield ‘cozy,’ ” Laura said. “I feel like that’s the same thing.”
“I keep trying to figure out what Mom would say about all this,” Noah said.
“Doug wondered the same thing.”
“I’ve been wondering how Mom would have spent the money if she’d been the one to win,” Sophie said.
“Ooh, that’s an interesting game.” Laura tapped her chin. “Sylvia Jacobson with six million dollars…The possibilities are endless.”
“Are they?” Sophie said. She pulled up a photo of their mother on her phone. In the picture, Sylvia was carrying three huge shopping bags from T.J. Maxx. “She loved a bargain way too much to pay retail for anything.”
“I remember getting in deep shit for buying a Polo shirt for a job interview at the actual Polo store instead of the outlet,” Noah said. “All I see her doing with the money is stuff for us and for the organizations she was a part of.”
Laura plucked a piece of Sophie’s muffin from the to-go bag and dropped it in her mouth. Their mother had loved sweets, especially cinnamon babka. Laura felt a welcome pang of hunger. “There must have been something Mom would have wanted to splurge on.”
The three of them stood in silent contemplation.
“I’m coming up empty,” Noah said.
“It’s kind of like my students,” Sophie said. “They can’t imagine that I have a life outside of teaching. They believe all us teachers sleep in the school. Isn’t that kind of how we saw Mom, like she existed only in relation to our family?”
“And now it’s too late,” Noah said, his voice catching.
“So if we don’t know what she’d have bought, do we at least know what she’d have said about Matthew? I’m trying to channel her. We shouldn’t have tossed the Ouija board when we were packing up,” Laura said. When they found the game, the siblings reminisced about the way Sophie would push the indicator to scare Noah, sending him running to their mother’s arms.
“Fair is fair,” Sophie said, wagging her index finger like their mother used to when making a point. “That was one of her favorite lines. Though it doesn’t actually mean anything if you think about it.”
“If you’re not going to share, I’m taking it away,” Laura said. “She used to say that when Matthew and I fought over the Game Boy.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness,” Noah said. “She and Dad both said that.”
“Of course, Mom also sang ‘If I Were a Rich Man’ from Fiddler at the top of her lungs whenever she had to do laundry,” Laura said.
“She was a woman of contradictions, clearly,” Sophie said with a guffaw. “I wish she was here now, even though she’d be pissed I’m not engaged. She liked Ravi a lot. Or she was terrified I’d become an old maid.”
“She would hate my outfit. ‘Beige does nothing for your complexion,’ ” Laura imitated Sylvia, pincering her sweater and growing wistful. “Yeah, I wish she was here too.”
Several times over the past year, Laura had reached for her cell phone to call her mom, only to remember she was gone after dialing the first few digits. It was like phantom limb syndrome. Sylvia played a huge role in helping Doug and Laura buy their first home, the one they still lived in. The idea of buying a new house—especially a huge one—without Sylvia seeing it first didn’t sit right. How would Laura know the mistakes she made if her mother wasn’t around to point them out? She needed her mom to turn her new house into a home, dropping off picture frames she scored at HomeGoods and skillets on sale at Costco. The only silver lining of her mother’s absence was that Laura didn’t have to tell her about Doug’s folly. Sylvia was loving and generous, but she did not forgive easily.
“I feel like if Matthew came to us and said he needed the money it would be different,” Sophie said. “Or even that he felt hurt that we hadn’t included him. What are we supposed to do with a cryptic group text?” Laura and Noah nodded in agreement. A pair of roaring ambulances rolled by and silenced them for a few minutes. When it quieted down, Laura said, “Can I show you guys the house we’re thinking about making an offer on?” She pulled out her phone.
Laura and Doug were working with Nancy Ruben, a local real estate agent whose face was plastered on signs all over Westfield, to find a new house. They’d listed their home with her and were scheduling visits to houses three times the size of their current one in tonier towns, giddy to be upsizing as empty nesters. Real estate was a sound investment (hadn’t her father said that?), and they agreed parking a chunk of their winnings into a house was a responsible choice. Their win wasn’t meant to be public knowledge until the live TV broadcast the next day, so Laura and Doug were cagey with Nancy about why they were trading up, reveling in the suspicions she must have. Neighbors were similarly poking around, desperate to understand the story behind the For Sale sign staked into their lawn. It was deliciously fun to share a big secret with her spouse, even though Laura felt terrible keeping the truth from Mindy and her other friends.
“This one is our favorite,” Laura said. “It’s in Franklin Lakes. Kind of far from Doug’s office, but he’ll manage.”
“Great landscaping,” Sophie observed, leaning in close. “I’d love to paint those flower beds.”
“Is that a six-car garage?” Noah asked, counting with his finger.
“Yep. Hang on, there’s a 3D tour,” Laura said. She took her siblings through the double-height living room to the regal dining room with a table set for fourteen and on to the basement, where an Olympic-quality gym was located.
“Is that your style?” Sophie asked. “I mean, it’s obviously very special but it looks so different from your Westfield house.”
“My style?” Laura laughed. “My style was whatever I could afford when we bought furniture, even if it didn’t match. I guess you could say we like gray, considering how much duct tape we have on the furniture. The only thing I’m sure of is that I want a lot of throw pillows in the new house.”
“Why?” Noah asked.
Laura shrugged. “Feels like superfluous pillows are a thing rich people should have.”
“Well, now I know what to get you as a housewarming gift,” Sophie said. “I want you guys to visit my new studio. It’s really bright and airy and super close to all the downtown galleries.”
“I have some news too.” Noah’s blue eyes twinkled. “I’m buying a house.”
Noah Jacobson, a homeowner? Laura was glad there wasn’t a feather around to knock her over. “Congrats! Where is it?”
“Actually, it’s Stanley Archer’s place.”
“Stanley Archer, as in our next-door neighbor? The guy who showed up in his undies?” Sophie was hysterically laughing.
“The one and only. I made Stanley and Ruth an offer they couldn’t refuse. They’re moving to Colorado to be near their grandkids. You guys know I love Beach Haven and this way I can keep an eye on our place. See what a wreck the new owners make of it.”
“That’s great, Noah,” Laura said.
“Mazel tov.” Sophie pulled her siblings in for a three-way hug as her cell phone vibrated. She looked at the screen and said, “Wow. Just got a text from my friend saying that budget cuts were averted at P.S. 282. We keep our jobs. But, wait a second, I guess I’m not going back anyway. Right? I’m done teaching.” She shook her head wildly. “This is insane. I’ve been there for ten years. I gotta call Ravi.”
“Speaking of your boyfriend, any news on this front?” Laura tapped Sophie’s ring finger.
“Who are you, Mom?” Sophie pulled back her hand.
“Just kidding,” Laura said, wondering if there wasn’t something behind Sophie’s quick dismissal.
After another round of hugs, the three siblings headed off in different directions. They would reconvene the next day at the television studio. On the matter of Matthew, it seemed a consensus had been reached without any of them having to say it out loud.
* * *
—
A flattering outfit and a coherent statement of gratitude were essential ingredients for a successful lottery acceptance on live TV. Laura watched numerous videos on YouTube that lacked both of the above. She vowed not to fall victim to the same missteps.
After four hours patrolling the designer floor of Bloomingdale’s with her daughters, both of whom Laura summoned home to help her find a dress, she purchased a navy shift with a bell sleeve and camel pumps with three-inch heels that brought her arches out of retirement. She needed to walk the knife’s edge between looking responsible enough not to squander the money and appearing overly fashionable, which could suggest she didn’t need it to begin with.
Predictably, the girls had shrieked when Laura and Doug dropped the Powerball bomb. The screaming eventually gave way to a flurry of questions. Emma: “Can I go to grad school now without taking out loans?” Laura: “Sure, if it’s close to home.” Hannah: “Can I get my highlights done by a super-famous hairdresser who only comes to the East Coast three times a year?” Laura: “Yes, if I can come with you.”
Doug hit mute and turned to Laura. “Doing this over the phone was a mistake.”
Laura unmuted. “Listen, girls, your father and I are much more comfortable than before. Of course, this will change some things in your lives, but we expect you to continue working hard and taking school seriously.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Emma blurted, “Han, we should get tickets to see Taylor Swift. Remember when we saw her going into Black-Eyed Susans last summer when she was here for that wedding?”
“Duh, that was the most exciting thing to ever happen on LBI,” Hannah said.
“She certainly caused the most traffic to ever happen on LBI,” Doug said, but the girls paid him no attention.
“Maybe we’re going to be invited to celebrity parties now.”
“Totally.”
“Do you know how much those Jennifer Fisher heart earrings cost? I’ve wanted them for ages.”
Laura wasn’t even following which daughter was speaking anymore. It was no use getting through to them when the shock was so fresh.
She and Doug tried not to worry. The girls didn’t have access to the money, so they couldn’t do any real damage in the short term. Upon returning from Japan, their chosen destination for a first luxury vacation, they would talk seriously about guiding Emma and Hannah through their new normal. Though Laura doubted anything would ever feel “normal” going forward.
“You look gorgeous.” Sophie gasped when Laura entered the TV studio’s green room. The sisters air-hugged and kissed to preserve their hair and makeup.
“So do you!” Laura stepped back to appraise her little sister. “Is that a pantsuit?” Sophie’s typical style was a little bit hippie and a little bit rock-and-roll. She loved jaunty accessories, like a whimsical bandana tied around the neck or a silver cuff with turquoise stones snaking around her bicep.
Sophie laughed. “I had no idea what to wear. Ravi’s mom helped. The suit is hers. I think she wears it to medical conferences or something. Do I look absurd?”
“Not at all,” Laura said. She liked how Sophie had styled her red hair into a sleek ponytail, her curls blown straight so the light bounced off her mane. Laura couldn’t do much with her boring bob other than add mousse for volume. “We’re both wearing a lot of makeup though, aren’t we?”
Sophie joined Laura at the vanity mirror illuminated by round fluorescent bulbs.
“Mom,” they said in unison. Sylvia was forever after them to wear more makeup. At every special occasion, she’d chide them for trying to get away with the natural look. “You’re pale as a ghost,” she’d say to Sophie, swiping at her cheeks with the creamy rouge that just happened to be in her purse. “It takes ten seconds to put on lipstick,” she’d admonish Laura, retrieving one of the many gold tubes that lived in the change compartment of her car.
“I just didn’t want to disappoint her,” Sophie said. “I like to think she’s watching TV in heaven. She’d be so sad without Jeopardy!”
“She’s definitely watching. And judging,” Laura said. Sylvia’s voice had buzzed like a mosquito in her ear as she readied herself that morning.
“Hello, hello. Looking great, both of you.”
Noah had entered the green room with an unfamiliar woman whose face was half-hidden by rhinestone sunglasses. For the TV segment, he’d stuck to his regular well-worn T-shirt and jeans, into which his companion had her thumb tucked into a back pocket. He hadn’t bothered to get a haircut.
“I’m Lisa,” the mystery woman said through a mouthful of chewing gum. She extended a hand to Laura, then Sophie. She had long pink nails that ruled out any sort of desk job and a caterpillar tattoo on her inner wrist. “Noah’s friend.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sophie said with a genuine grin. She was naturally less judgmental than Laura. That was something Laura admired about her younger sister. Laura, preoccupied by her own family, had neglected to consider how Noah was going to manage this massive change in circumstance. Gum-chomping, hot-pink-clawed Lisa was a reminder she’d have to keep a close eye on him.
“What’s the caterpillar supposed to mean?” Laura asked, gesturing to the tattoo. She was trying to follow Sophie’s friendly lead, but her inquisitiveness sounded naturally more judgy.
Lisa removed the gum from her mouth and attached it to her index finger. “Well, I always feel bad for the caterpillar because everyone just wants it to become a butterfly. And butterflies are pretty, but how cute are caterpillars?” Lisa spoke in a baby voice she was clearly faking, and Laura was sorry she’d asked.
“Granny, Granny, they gave us lollipops.” A high-pitched child’s voice rang out, followed by another, three octaves higher. “Granny Mabel, can I come on TV with you?”
A gaggle of small children charged for the catering table and began to stuff fistfuls of sugar cookies into their mouths.
“I’m having flashbacks of the art and baking unit I do with my third graders,” Sophie said, lurching forward to catch a tray of falling brownies. “That I did.”
“You okay?” Laura asked, catching Sophie’s muted tone.
“Fine. It’s just crazy I’m not going back to school in September,” Sophie said.
“You must be Mabel Collins.” Laura approached the elderly woman who trailed behind the swarm of children. Technically, their names had not been made public yet, but thanks to a sloppy production assistant at the local NBC affiliate, the Jacobsons knew the other winner from New Jersey was a grandmother whose main activities, according to her Facebook page, were baking, churchgoing and knitting custom sweaters for her bevy of grandchildren.
Laura had been tracking Mabel’s posts since discovering her identity, but there was nothing to indicate anything had changed in the woman’s life. Since winning, Mabel had posed a question to her knitting circle on Facebook (Laura had to join the private group to view the posts) about how to fix a mistake in a brioche stitch. She also posted a photo of a boy of about five in a Power Rangers costume blowing out birthday candles at a no-frills backyard party.
“I am, indeed. Are you one of the producers?” Mabel asked.
“No, I’m Laura Jacobson. My brother and sister and I”—she pointed out Sophie, who was bent over the craft table showing the children how to build a tower with Chessmen cookies, and Noah, seated on a plush couch next to Lisa, who was trying to feed him grapes—“are the other winners from New Jersey. Noah’s the one who bought the tickets, but we went in on them together.”
Mabel clapped a hand to her mouth. “Well how marvelous is that? What good fortune for you three. Your parents must be just overjoyed. You know, I’m one of three as well, but both my sisters have passed on.” She crossed herself.
Noah disentangled himself from Lisa and joined their conversation, followed by Sophie.
“I was the middle sister,” Mabel continued. “Which one of you is the middle?”
“That’s me,” Sophie said timidly. It was technically true of both she and Laura. They were both middles.
“Three is such a great number,” Mabel said. “That’s why I had three children myself. Two boys and a girl, opposite of you folks.”
“Sounds like a lovely family,” Laura said, reaching for a magazine to fan herself. What temperature did they keep the green room at? It felt like 110.
“Noah, don’t you have a—” Lisa called out.
Laura shot her brother a look.
Noah glanced over to the couch. “Hey, Lisa, would you do me a favor? I think I forgot my driver’s license at the security desk. Would you mind checking?”
“Of course, babe.” Lisa stood and sashayed out of the green room with a pat on Noah’s bum.
“You must be the baby?” Mabel said, looking at Noah. He nodded. “Did you wish you had a brother or were these two older sisters enough for you?”
Laura’s face was on fire. Visible hives had ballooned on Sophie’s neck, and Noah looked ready for a sinkhole to swallow him up.
“I, uh—” Noah managed.
“Noah’s always had a special place in our family as the baby,” Sophie interjected.
“So, how did you pick the winning numbers, Mabel?” Laura did her best to change the subject.
One of the children, a girl who looked about Austin’s age, stopped fixing her hair and snapping selfies to chime in. “Granny uses the same numbers every week. She’s been playing the lotto for sixty years,” she said. “We even get scratch-offs in our Easter eggs.”
Mabel smiled. “That’s Ruby, my oldest grandchild. She’s a real pistol.”
