Read Open and Shut for Free Online Page A

money?”
    “He didn't,” I say firmly. “I knew he made some good investments over the years, but not like this. He would have told me. He would have raised my allowance.”
    “I don't know what to say, Andy. But it's all real.”
    My legs seem to give out from under me, and I sag back down on the couch. Roger brings the books over to me and takes me through them, every square inch of them, and there is no doubt about it. I am, in fact, rich.
    It isn't immediately clear where the money came from, but it doesn't seem to be the result of particularly shrewd investments. The money is sitting in long-term tax-free municipal bonds, earning much less interest than it could be elsewhere.
    None of this makes any sense, so I decide to investigate, and make the logical decision to assign my investigator. I call Laurie from Roger's office and tell her what I've learned, and the extent of my wealth.
    “You've suddenly become far more attractive, you big adorable hunk, you,” she gushes.
    Since I haven't told her about Nicole, this doesn't seem to be a good time to engage in sexual/romantic banter. So I don't, and she promises to get to the bottom of this quickly. I have no doubt that she will.
    When I get home I tell Nicole the news, and her astonishment matches mine. My father would be the last person you'd expect to keep a momentous secret like this from his family, and I have to assume my mother had been in the dark about it as well. She was biologically incapable of keeping a secret; she would have told me without any prompting at all.
    There are ordinarily no circumstances under which I have trouble sleeping. My ability to fall asleep on a moment's notice is a blessing I have never taken for granted. But tonight I toss and turn for half the night.
    I don't even have Tara in bed for me to pet; since Nicole's return Tara has been reduced to sleeping on a comforter on the floor. I could pet Nicole, but she might read more into it than she should. So I just lie there, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Becoming an orphan, a husband, and a multimillionaire in the same week must be causing me some stress.
    The next morning I go to the office for the first time since the funeral. When I arrive I find my secretary-receptionist, Edna, doing a crossword puzzle. Edna is sixty-six and she proudly and often proclaims that she has worked every day of her life since she was a mere child, yet she hasn't done a real day's work in the five years she's worked for me. If you think I'm about to tell her that, you don't know her or me.
    Edna, to hear her tell it, has what must be one of the largest extended families in the United States. There is nothing one can mention, be it an experience, an occupation, a talent, an affliction … anything … that isn't shared by a member of Edna's family. The only thing they all seem to have in common is that all are constantly advising Edna that she doesn't need to work. If I could speak to all of them, and a venue the size of Yankee Stadium would be necessary, I would reassure them that their advice has been taken to heart. Edna does many things, but work is not one of them.
    But whatever one might say about Edna, she is the greatest crossword puzzle talent this country has ever produced. It's amazing; she can go through the
New York Times
puzzle in less than twenty minutes. She often waxes eloquent about the injustice of it all. Here Michael Jordan made millions because he was better at basketball than anyone else, while she gets nothing for being at the peak of her chosen avocation. She vows she will live to see the day that crossword championships are held at Madison Square Garden before screaming multitudes, and she's signing huge pencil endorsement deals.
    I get in early and set about trying to relax, which for me means a good sock basketball game. I take a pair of rolled-up socks (I keep some in the office for just this purpose) and shoot at a ledge above the door. I have to pretend to dribble, since