Winter Moon

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 his hand.

"Why would Tommy's dad leave everything to me, for God's sake?"

"That was one of the questions I asked Paul Youngblood. He says Tommy

used to write to his dad about you, what a great guy you were. Talked

about you like a brother. So with Tommy gone, his dad wanted you to

have everything."

"What do the other relatives have to say about that?"

"There aren't any relatives." Jack shook his head. "But I never even

met"--he consulted the letter-- "Eduardo. This is crazy. I mean,

Jesus, it's wonderful, but it's crazy.

He gives everything to someone he hasn't even met?" Unable to remain

seated, bursting with excitement, Heather got up and went to the

refrigerator.

"Paul Youngblood says the idea appealed to Eduardo because he inherited

it eight years ago from his former boss, which was a total surprise to

him too."

"I'll be damned," he said wonderingly. She removed a bottle of

champagne that she had hidden in the vegetable drawer, where Jack

wouldn't see it before he heard the news and knew what they were

celebrating. "According to Youngblood, Eduardo thought that surprising

you with it . . . well, he seemed to see it as the only way he'd ever

be able to repay his boss's kindness." When she returned to the table,

Jack frowned at the bottle of champagne.

"I'm like a balloon, I'm floating, bouncing off the ceiling, but . .

at the same time . . ."

"Tommy," she said. He nodded.

Peeling the foil off the champagne bottle, she said, "We can't bring

him back."

"No, but ..."

"He'd want us to be happy about this."

"Yeah, I know. Tommy was a great guy."

"So let's be happy." He said nothing. Untwisting the wire cage that

restrained the cork, she said, "We'd be idiots if we weren't." know"

"It's a miracle, and just when we need one." He stared at the

champagne. She said, "It's not just our future. It's Toby's too."

"He can keep his teeth now." Laughing, Heather said, "It's a wonderful

thing, Jack." At last his smile was broad and without reservation.

"You're damn right it's a wonderful thing--now we won't have to listen

to him gumming his food."

Removing the wire from the cork, she said, "Even if we don't deserve so