Page 57 of Billion-Dollar Ransom

DINNER CONVERSATION WAS glum. Four tried her best to draw the kids out, but they mostly pushed their food around on their plates, making tiny barricades like mini-forts. Four was a little hurt by that and wished the kids would at least try a small bite.

“This mac and cheese is my little girl’s favorite,” Four said, as if this would entice them. But when Three shot her a look, she realized she’d have to tell him about her earlier mistake. They weren’t supposed to reveal any personal information.

“What’s wrong with her?” Finney asked. “Your daughter?”

“Never mind that,” Three said. “Eat up before it gets cold.”

But Four couldn’t sit there and ignore the question. “Three,” she said, “it’s okay. I already told them.”

“You what?”

Four turned back to Finney, rested a hand on her forearm, and squeezed it gently.

“We’re doing all we can to help her through it,” Three said finally.

He didn’t explain that what they were doing right now, at this very moment, was the only option they had left. They were a day into this ordeal. Perhaps after one more day—or sooner—they’d be living in a different world.

“Why don’t the doctors help her?” Cal asked.

Four and Three exchanged glances. How many times had they had this conversation with concerned friends?

But I’ve heard that’s very treatable was the inevitable reply.

To which they were forced to respond: Yes, treatable if you have the money or insurance that covers the treatment.

Mind you, an offer of financial help never followed from these friends.

Only sympathetic, sometimes pitying looks.

“It’s not the doctors,” Four replied. “It’s the people who run insurance companies.” Seeing Cal’s and Finney’s confused expressions, she said: “Sometimes adults can be very bad people.”

Finney nodded, looked down, then looked up at Four. “But you’re not a bad person, are you?”

There was a buzz across the room—the cell phone in Four’s handbag. The phone she wasn’t supposed to have.