She blew on her signature to dry the ink, then handed it to Jack. "For three days' work, your airline tickets, lunch, and an hour of parking." "I'm getting a nice little collection of these," he said suspiciously. It was 6:00 p.m. and they were seated on the patio of a Newport Beach fish restaurant named The Cannery. Small boats were tied to the wharf below the sprawling deck. "That one will clear." Jack studied the check skeptically. "How? I thought Herm said you guys were out of money." "We're liquidating some things." Earlier he had noticed that her rings and the gold graduation watch were gone. "You sold your watch?" "We've sold a lot of stuff," she said. "None of it important." "I can't take your graduation watch." "Listen, Jack, this money didn't come from my watch, okay? If it's easier for you, pretend it's from Dad's old clunker station wagon that we also sold. Besides, what does it matter? We've got bills, obligations, and we're meeting them.
