Katherine’s simple life with Michael shattered when he filed for divorce after her grandfather’s death, only to reappear later sporting a luxury car and designer clothes.
To make matters worse, he callously threw a $100 bill at her. But it was the smiley face on that bill that would expose a shocking truth.
My life changed in a supermarket parking lot, of all places. But I should back up a bit.
My divorce from Michael had been finalized about a month ago.
It had been his choice entirely and completely out of the blue.
I didn’t fight it. What was the point? Sometimes people just fall out of love.
So I let him go, and we hadn’t seen each other since.
But on a random weekday, I was picking up cat food for my clinic’s newest rescue when a flash of white caught my eye.
I turned to stare out of the window to the parking lot and saw a pristine sports car between two faded sedans.
It was a new model, and I was trying to remember what brand the logo represented when the driver’s door swung open, and my heart stopped.
Michael stepped out, but it wasn’t the Michael I remembered.
My husband had worn khakis from clearance racks and whatever T-shirt he could find in his closet.
But more often than not, he was in his grocery store cashier uniform. That had been his job for the longest time. He worked six days a week and earned slightly more than minimum wage.
But my now ex-husband was wearing a designer suit that probably cost more than our old apartment’s rent.
A Rolex glinted on his wrist, and his hair was expertly styled, not the messy mop he used to have.
I don’t know what propelled me, but I left my cart behind and walked outside. “Michael?” His name slipped out as I got closer to his car.
He turned, and for a split second, I caught something in his eyes. But it vanished instantly, replaced by cold disdain.
I forced myself to be civil.
After all, we’d spent 12 years together. “Hey! Wow, congrats!
This must be the car you’ve always dreamed about. Looks like you’re doing really well! Do you get a new job?”
“Katherine, we’re not together anymore.
This is really not your business,” he responded, fixing his hair while walking past me. “Oh, wait,” he stopped at the grocery store entrance and reached into his pocket. “You can have this.
Think of it as my parting gift.”
A $100 bill flew in the air and fell on the asphalt right at my feet. Was he insane? I wasn’t a beggar.
Throughout our entire relationship, I’d earned more.
After all, I was a veterinarian, and he was a cashier. I’d never minded; we were high school sweethearts, and money wasn’t supposed to matter. I had been happy in our little apartment… until he asked for a divorce.
Who was this person?
“Really?” I asked, raising my voice.
“This is who you are now?”
Michael just smirked and went into the store. I was about to stomp to my car, but something made me pick up the bill on the asphalt.
And my eyes immediately landed on a small smiley face below the 100. It brought back a memory of the last conversation I had with Grandpa.
The doctors had already said he didn’t have much time left after a serious diagnosis.
I went to his house, intent on spending quality time with him, but he ushered me into his home office.
After talking about some lighthearted matters for a while, he opened his desk’s bottom drawer.
“Kat, please take this,” he said, unearthing stack after stack of cash. There must have been around $200,000 in one-hundred-dollar bills. “This is for your future.
You can open your own veterinary clinic or a rescue, or use it for a proper house. I want to see you happy and secure.”
I smiled. “Grandpa, I don’t need any of this,” I told him.
“I can think of several charities that do.”
“Kat, please, listen,” he begged me.
But I shook my head and smiled wider. I stood, grabbing one of the bills and a pen from his holder. I drew a little smile and handed the money over.
“Don’t be sad, Grandpa, and don’t worry about me. I make more than enough. I am happy.
Now, all I want is to spend the afternoon with you. Let’s go to the garden.”
He sighed and chuckled. Then we went outside.
I forgot about the cash while we drank iced tea and looked at the birds and squirrels among the rustling tree leaves.
I lost him two weeks later, and as far as I knew, Grandpa had given all his money and assets to my other relatives and several charities. I truly wanted nothing.
A month after that, Michael left me, and at that moment, as I stared at the bill with a smiley face, my stomach dropped.
***
Harrison’s downtown office was similar to my grandfather’s, but it was in an intimidating building in the fanciest area, with windows overlooking the city skyline.
He was my grandfather’s best friend and oldest business partner. Despite being in his 70s, Harrison refused to retire.
Family photos covered his desk, including one of Grandpa and him fishing together.
“Katherine, what brings you here?” he asked, his kind eyes crinkling with concern as he swiveled on his leather chair.
“Sir, I need to ask you something. Did Grandpa mention who he was giving money to?”
He shifted in his leather chair, scratching his chin. “He told me you weren’t interested in money.
What makes you ask about that now? Are you in trouble? How much do you need?”
I raised my hands, shaking my head.
“No, it’s nothing like that,” I began and reached into my pocket for the $100 bill.
“I’m asking because I just saw Michael, my ex, driving a sports car and wearing clothes worth more than our old rent. He threw this at me. I drew that smiley face on the stack of cash Grandpa offered me.”
Harrison put on his reading glasses on and his frown deepened as he st
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