Chapter 7: Fifteen Thousand Dollars of Sister

My sister was sitting in an antique copper bathtub with a green face mask on, holding a check for fifteen thousand dollars.

The bathroom attached to my Lean Room was twice the size of my kitchen.

The tub stood on lion's feet in the middle of it with a card taped to the rim: HAND-HAMMERED, FOR THE POOR.

"Don't yell," Holly said. "I'm not cashing it."

"Then why are you holding it?"

"For emotional support."

I sat on the edge of the tub and took a closer look at the check.

It was made out to Holly Finch in a firm black hand and signed W. Endicott.

The memo line said: In appreciation of your time.

"She gave it to me before breakfast," Holly said.

"She said she'd like me to be candid about my sister, and that the family would appreciate honesty."

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I said you once returned a rotisserie chicken because it was warm on the left and cold on the right," Holly said.

"It was dangerous," I said.

"It was dinner, Laur."

She waved the check.

"Fifteen thousand dollars for my time," she said. "The most I ever charged was thirty-eight dollars for full highlights, and the woman cried."

I looked at the check for a while.

Fifteen thousand dollars would have fixed her car, her rent, and the water heater in her building.

It would also have been a very expensive way of being asked to say something.

"Give it back," I said.

"I will. After I hold it for an hour," Holly said.

"Holly," I said.

"You'd turn down free money?"

"I'd turn down free hurt," I said.

She sat up so fast the water slopped over the rim.

"That's the problem with you," she said. "Everybody gives you something and you hunt for the hook."

Keep reading free with an account. Start His Billionaire Family Tested My Poverty, but Their Heir Was Broke from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.