Free In Death's Shadow by Marcia Talley

him remove my appendix with his letter opener.
    He raised an encouraging eyebrow, so I rattled on and on. When I ran out of steam, Jablonsky thanked me, then skimmed over my policy, flipping through pages at a furious rate, explaining the fine points of viatical settlements to me as he went along. "I see your husband is beneficiary."
    "That's right."
    "Should we bring him on board?"
    "Oh, Paul's away on business," I cooed, "but if he were in town, he'd be sitting right here next to me." I patted the seat of the empty chair to my right.
    In point of fact, if Paul had been listening, he wouldn't be sitting anywhere. He'd be flat out on the floor, having a coronary.
    Jablonsky examined the last several pages. "Mostly boiler plate," he murmured, picking up a pencil, "but there are some goodies in here." He jotted something down on a pad of lined paper, then looked up at me with a sober smile. "We'll need a certificate from your doctor, of course."
    "Of course." I nodded sagely.
    "Then, depending on what he says about your prognosis, we should be able to do something very nice for you."
    "Can't you tell me how much my policy's worth now?" I asked. "I'd like to surprise my husband when he gets back."
    Jablonsky chuckled, as if I'd said something amusing. "I don't buy the policies myself, Hannah," he explained, "I'm just a broker. More like a matchmaker, really." He grinned. I swear to God, the guy practically twinkled ! "What I do—with your permission, of course—is shop your policy around to the various viatical settlement firms I usually do business with. When we hear back from them, I'll call you in, we'll sit down at a table, look over the proposals and take the best offer."
    "Can you give me a ballpark figure?" I pressed. "You know. For my husband?"
    Jablonsky tapped the eraser end of his pencil on his notepad. Then the pointy end. Then the eraser. "Well, don't hold me to this, now, but considering your medical history, you might qualify for as much as sixty-five or seventy percent."
    "And that's—" I squinted at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. "I'm not very good at percents, Gil," I said.
    "One sixty-five, one seventy thou." He spread his fingers and rocked his hand back and forth. "More or less."
    "My goodness!" I squeaked, all the while thinking that goodness had very little to do with it. If Mrs. Gilbert Francis Jablonsky Senior's little boy was donating his services out of the pure goodness of his heart, then step aside Camilla Parker-Bowles because I'm going to be the next Queen of England.
    "So," I inquired sweetly. "How much do you charge, Gil?"
    Another thousand-watt smile. “Ten percent."
    I paused, digesting this bit of information. "Well," I said, standing and gathering up my belongings. "It sounds like a win-win situation to me."
    "You bet your life," he replied.
    Jablonsky escorted me to the door. He laid a hand gently on my upper arm. "I'll be in touch," he promised.
    Halfway down the hall, I turned. Jablonsky still stood in his office doorway, looking after me.
    He tipped an imaginary hat.
    I waggled my fingers.
    You bet your life .
    "That's exactly what I'm afraid of," I whispered to the amaryllis as I passed it by.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    No matter how many times I do it, there's some thing magical about being able to sit in the comfort of my own backyard and surf the Internet.
    The previous Christmas, Paul had bought a network card for my laptop computer and set about installing a wireless network in our basement office. I had to smile, remembering how he scuttled up and down the basement steps, fiddling with the antennae, testing the coverage by wandering all over the house with my laptop, looking for hot spots. He can't do on-line banking in the living room, as it turns out, or in the guest bedroom, but he can transfer funds to his heart's content from the upstairs bathroom.
    Technology, ain't it grand?
    The signal's hot, too, on the patio, so that's where I went on Sunday morning