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Instead, I have to go out in my own way, on my own terms. You must think me a bitter woman, seeking revenge in such a public, merciless way. But why shouldn’t people pay for what they’ve done? Why should people like Maire, Samuel, Camille, Ned, and the senator be able to go through life with zero consequences? It isn’t right. Sure, I could have just given the pertinent information to the police and to the people impacted, but this was so much more fun, don’t you think?
I wasn’t always this way. Once I was just as doe-eyed and loyal and ambitious as you are. I was just a girl who fell in love with a boy and wanted to be a journalist. We all know how that turned out.
I know I’ve worked you too hard, was too critical, too demanding, but you’ve always risen to the occasion. Well done. Now that I’m gone, I want you to go on and start thinking about your own dreams, your own hopes for the future. Whatever you decide to do, be true to yourself, be bold, and don’t back down. It’s always served me well. I’ve left a little something for you, to get you started. Use it wisely.
Sincerely,
Cat
Fern set the letter aside. Catalina had a terminal illness and planned the entire One Lucky Winner fiasco as her final swan song. It was unbelievable, but also so like Cat. Fern swiped away the tears and lifted the second sheet of paper from the folder.
I, Catalina James, being of full age and sound mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, herby revoking and annulling any and all Last Will and Testaments or Codicils at any time heretofore made by me.
It was Cat’s will. Fern recognized the executor as Cat’s personal attorney, who would have been charged with seeing to all the details.
I direct that all my just debts, secured and unsecured, be paid as soon as reasonable after my death... All the rest and residue of my property, real, and personal, of every kind and description and whatsoever situate, which I may own or have the right to dispose of at the time of my death, I give, devise, and bequeath in total to my hardworking, loyal assistant...
Fern’s heart skipped a beat.
Fernanda Elizabeth Espa
She must have read it wrong. She started at the beginning, slowing down, taking in each word and phrase. Fern’s name was the only beneficiary listed. It was Cat’s signature at the bottom of the document and it had been signed and dated by two witnesses several days ago. It was official.
Cat had left her everything—the house and its contents, the cars, the businesses, the money. Everything.
After all of Cat’s debts were settled, taxes paid, her net worth was approximately ten million dollars. Fern sat back, stunned. She had no idea that Cat had valued her in this way. She had no idea that her boss had thought of her as hardworking and loyal. Fern’s eyes blurred with tears. Ten million dollars. In the end she was the one, the last one standing.
Fern was the one lucky winner.
FORTY-THREE
THE BEST FRIEND
Six Months Later
Maire quietly closed the door to Dani’s room and stepped into the bright lights of the hospital corridor where her ex-mother-in-law was waiting. It had been a rough night, but Dani was sleeping peacefully, the infection that was ravaging her lungs under control for the moment.
“I got Keely off to school and brought you your mail,” Shar said, handing her a cup of coffee and a small stack of letters. “I’ll drive back this afternoon so I’m there when she gets home.”
Maire nodded and looked at the mail in her hands. More bills, Maire thought, her stomach twisting.
“Go take a break,” Shar said. “I’ll go sit with Dani.”
Maire leaned in to give her ex-mother-in-law a hug, then moved through the hospital corridors, taking an elevator up to the top floor. She walked through a set of doors to an outdoor garden, a quiet spot for families to find a little respite from the doctors, the nurses, the weight of watching a loved one suffer. The children’s hospital was a few hours away from Calico, but it was equipped with the best care for pediatric cystic fibrosis patients.
Maire took a seat and set the stack of mail on the small café table in front of her. The morning April air was cool, but the sun was shining with the promise of a rare warm spring day.
Shar had been a godsend since Maire had come home from One Lucky Winner, helping with the girls, never asking what really happened on the show, giving Maire time to recover physically and mentally. Her cuts and bruises faded, her shoulder healed, but the nightmares remained. Maire lived in fear that her secret would be revealed, that a police officer would show up at her door to talk about a suspicious car accident that occurred twenty years before.
Though Maire resisted the urge, she couldn’t help but look up the others online. Camille seemed to come out the other side relatively unscathed. Her podcast, Your Best Life with Camille, was bigger than ever and a book deal was in the works. There was a small article in the San Francisco Chronicle about some tax issues that Camille was having, but her lawyers assured everyone that it was a clerical oversight and was being remedied appropriately.
Samuel was back in Atlanta in his job as a district attorney but was in the process of setting up a nonprofit foundation called the Center for Prosecutorial Integrity. Many times, Maire had considered reaching out to him, for what she wasn’t sure. To talk about Tanglefoot Lake, about One Lucky Winner? No, some things were better left alone.
After Ned’s death, scores of women came forward with the same harrowing story. Ned Bennett was a predator, an abuser, a rapist. They had suffered alone for so long, but now had found a sisterhood and were working together to fight workplace abuse.
As for the senator, his wife of fifty years was in the process of divorcing him, and any hope of a run at the White House was gone. There was also plenty of tabloid coverage about the senator’s mistress, who begged the media to leave her alone, to leave her son alone. They didn’t.
More than anyone, the public wanted to know more about Fern Espa, the face of One Lucky Winner. Cameras showed up wherever Fern did: at Cat’s funeral, at her apartment, at the grocery store. After a respectful amount of time, Fern did the talk show circuit, appearing on all the major network morning shows. The second season of One Lucky Winner was in the works. There were missteps, Fern admitted, but in the new iteration, contestant safety would be paramount.
