Chapter 12: Pay For It

Lorna picked up the clipboard and signed every line.

She did it standing at the foot of her father's bed, without looking at him, and her pen never slowed.

"Surgery in forty minutes," she told the nurse. "I'm his daughter."

Then she walked out, and I followed her.

The waiting room on the fourth floor was already full.

Dinah had brought the crew.

There were thirty of them in work jackets, on plastic chairs and on the floor, holding coffee.

The old assembler with the gray eyebrows had brought his wife in a wheelchair.

Lorna stopped in the doorway and took them in.

"Nobody here works for me," she said.

"Not since Thursday," said the young woman with the nose ring.

Lorna turned on me, and her whole body was shaking.

"Write the check."

"Lorna."

"Eleven million, plus interest, plus the house and the piano. Do it right now, in front of them."

She was almost whispering.

"Let's see how much he was worth."

Thirty heads turned.

I took my checkbook out of my coat.

I had the pen in my hand and the cap off when Dinah stood up.

"Not like this," she said.

"It's what she asked for."

"She asked for a show."

Dinah's voice was level.

"She's hurt, and she wants someone to hurt back. If you write it in a hallway, it's one more secret."

I looked at the blank line.

I had sworn on a child's index card to do this in daylight.

Where anyone could see.

"Lorna," I said. "I'll pay it. Every cent, with interest, with the house and the piano."

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