My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.

“Sit down,” I said.

“I think it’s time you learned what that birthday ticket actually bought.”

PART 3

The ticket had not been worth bus fare.

It had been worth enough to make the clerk at the gas station stop smiling and call the lottery office for instructions.

I did not claim it at the convenience store.

Richard made that much clear the Monday after my birthday, when we met in an office above a bookstore downtown.

He asked me to put the ticket in a protective sleeve, photographed both sides, and arranged for an accountant to walk me through the claim and taxes.