Free Hidden Riches by Felicia Mason Page A

three couples began to review their options, Rollings retrieved a few items from a desk drawer and placed them on the desk top.
    Delcine leaned forward to consult with Winslow. She kept her voice low so their conversation was private.
    â€œI hoped there would be more,” she said.
    â€œYes, so did I.”
    â€œLike Lester over there, I was doing a tally as he named beneficiaries. It looks like her church and probably Rosalee got a big chunk of whatever was left of the lottery money.”
    â€œTen thousand isn’t going to help us,” Winslow said. “It’s not even enough to hold them off for a month or two.”
    Delcine sighed again. Then, “What do you think this remainder of the estate is?”
    Winslow shrugged. “I don’t know. It could be anything. Maybe it’s some land that’s worth something. Or maybe she made some wise investments. She was your sister, what do you think?”
    Delcine rolled her eyes. “Ana Mae and investments? Those words don’t belong together. She died cleaning somebody’s toilet, Win.”
    Conceding the point, he nodded. Then added, “But you never know.”
    â€œWe’ve got nothing to lose,” Delcine added. “I’ll waive the money on the hope that there’s something of value that can be sold for the amount of money we need.”
    Winslow nodded in agreement.
    While his sisters discussed or argued with their spouses, Clayton got up to look at one of the paintings on Rollings’s wall. Muddied browns and greens depicted three hounds at the hooves of a big bay horse carrying a rider with a rifle. Looking at Archer, he muttered, “I’ve never understood the appeal of these country hunt scenes.”
    â€œIt takes all kinds,” Archer said.
    â€œHmm. Well, what do you think?”
    â€œWhat do you think is the question?”
    â€œWe don’t need the money,” Clayton said.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBut ten thousand dollars is ten thousand dollars. That was nice of Ana Mae.”
    Archer remained silent.
    â€œYou really have no opinion?” Clayton asked.
    Archer grinned. “I have lots of opinions. You know that. But on this, it’s a decision solely for you to make.”
    Clayton shrugged. “I really don’t care. I just want to get out of here. But I am curious about the rest of her so-called estate. What kind of estate does a domestic worker leave behind?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Rollings said. “But your time is up. I will need your decisions now.”
    The heirs all returned to their seats—except Lester, who stood sentinel behind JoJo’s chair.
    Rollings opened the portfolio and picked up three manila envelopes identical to the one he’d given Rosalee.
    â€œMrs. Foster?”
    â€œWe’ll . . . I’ll waive,” Delcine said.
    â€œAs you wish,” Rollings replied, placing one of the envelopes back on the desk.
    â€œDo we still need to be here, Mr. Rollings?” Rosalee asked, leaning forward. Her manila envelope fell to the floor. “It looks like you’re done with me and Reverend Toussaint.”
    â€œPlease remain until we have concluded the proceedings,” Rollings said.
    Rosalee sighed and sat back.
    The minister picked up the envelope and handed it to her. Rosalee looked at it a moment as if she’d forgotten all about it. Then she opened it and pulled out the papers.
    Rosalee gasped.
    Eyes wide, she glanced at Rollings as if for confirmation and then shoved the bank statement back into the envelope.
    â€œHow much did you get?” Lester asked.
    Rosalee opened her mouth, but no words came out. She just clutched the envelope to her chest.
    The edges of Rollings’s mouth curved up for the briefest of moments, then he asked, “Mrs. Coston, what is your decision in the matter?”
    Before JoJo could answer, Lester placed a hand on her shoulder.
    â€œAll right, Lester,” she