I didn’t want to be doing what Maureen had been, obviously, but I should be doing something, shouldn’t I? That’s when it had crossed my mind that she might be getting paid for what I’d seen her do last night. That would explain where she’d gotten the money to buy her Black Hills ring, its plump rose-gold grapes hugged by curving green-gold leaves. I hoped she wasn’t getting paid. If I won the Publishers Clearing House Sweepstakes, I would buy her all the Black Hills gold jewelry in the world so she never had to get on her knees again.
