Chapter 139: The Best Way To Use Money
"Your laptop has seventeen browser tabs open at all times and you never close them because you’re afraid you’ll lose something," said Amara. "I’ve seen it."
"That’s a research system," said Max.
"That’s anxiety with a monitor," said Amara.
Sean looked between them, the specific dynamic doing its thing, and felt the particular warmth of being in a room where two people were entirely comfortable being exactly themselves around each other.
His phone buzzed.
Dr. Grace. A text message with billing contact information and a full list. Not three names. A full list of every family currently on the ward with outstanding treatment costs that exceeded what they could manage.
Fourteen families.
Sean looked at the list for a moment. Then he opened his banking app.
"I’m going to cover all of them now," he said. "Before I leave."
Amara and Max both looked at him.
He worked through the list methodically, one transfer at a time, each one its own notification, each one a different family on a different floor who was going to receive a message today that the gap had been closed. The Reyes family. The woman in room twelve whose daughter stopped at the nurses station every day in her school uniform. Mr. Patterson at the end of the hall with his two children and his night shift clothes. Eleven more families whose names Sean didn’t know yet but would.
The total across all fourteen families came to two hundred and thirty-one thousand dollars.
He transferred it .
[231,000 dollars spent]
[Balance: $3,827,957]
[462,000 dollars received]
[New Balance: $4,289,957]
He put his phone away.
Amara had been watching his face while he did it. Not the screen. His face.
"You don’t react to the numbers," she said.
"The numbers are a tool," said Sean. "The reaction belongs to the outcome not the number."
Amara looked at him for a moment. Then she wrote something in her notebook. He didn’t ask what.
"Can I ask you something," said Amara.
"Yes," said Sean.
"Why does any of this matter to you," she said. "Max told me you’re building something. That you have significant financial goals. That you’re investing and growing your resources with specific intentions." She looked at him directly. "None of that requires doing this. You could have visited me, said something polite, and left. You would have fulfilled any reasonable obligation." She paused. "Why go further."
Sean thought about the honest answer.
"Because I can help," Sean said. "If I have the money to make someone’s life better and choose not to, that wouldn’t sit right with me."
Amara looked at him for a long moment.
"You don’t talk about money the way people who grew up with money talk about it," she said.
"I didn’t grow up with money," said Sean.
"That explains some of it," said Amara. "Not all of it though." She tilted her head. "Max told me you’d had an experience that gave you perspective most people your age don’t have." She looked at him. "He didn’t elaborate."
"He couldn’t," said Sean. "Because I haven’t fully explained it to him yet."
"Will you," said Amara.
"Eventually," said Sean. "When I can explain it in a way that makes sense."
"Okay,thanks" said Amara. The same acceptance her brother had. Information acknowledged, filed, not pushed.
Amara looked down at her notebook, absently tracing a finger along its cover before lifting her eyes again.
"Those fourteen families..." she said softly. "They’re all going to find out today that everything’s changed."
Sean nodded. "They are."
Her eyes met his.
"Thank you."
Sean smiled faintly.’
"You were the one who sent me to Dr. Grace," he said. "None of this happens if you don’t."
Amara shook her head.
"You’re giving me too much credit."
"No," Sean replied. "I’m giving you the right amount."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Amara glanced at Max.
"He’s nothing like the people in my novels."
Max chuckled.
"You’ve mentioned that before."
"I’m expanding on it," she said. "Characters in my books are generous because it makes them look heroic, or because the plot needs them to be." She looked back at Sean. "You help people, then act like it’s the least interesting part of your day."
Sean rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.
"I just don’t think helping someone should be treated like it’s extraordinary."
"It usually is," Amara said.
That left Sean without an answer.
Max looked out the window, hiding a small smile.
After a few seconds, Amara spoke again.
"Come back before I’m discharged."
Sean looked at her.
"Dr. Grace will probably want you to meet some of the children. She won’t ask directly, but she’ll be hoping you do."
A small grin spread across her face.
"And when I’m finally out of here, you’re coming to dinner with us." said Amara
"The restaurant from your notebook?" Sean asked.
"The very one," Amara replied.
"I wouldn’t miss it," Sean said.
"Good," Amara said with a satisfied nod.
Satisfied, Amara reached for her notebook and uncapped her pen.
Within seconds she was writing again, completely absorbed, as though she were updating plans instead of sitting in a hospital room.
Sean stood, and Max rose with him.
At the doorway, Sean glanced back.
Amara hadn’t looked up.
She was already making notes with the same quiet determination she’d shown since they’d met, treating her eventual discharge less like a hope and more like another task that needed proper planning.
"Get better soon," Sean said.
Without lifting her head, she smiled.
"Thanks " Said Amara with a smile shown on her face.
He walked out into the corridor. Max followed, pulling the door gently closed behind them.
They walked toward the elevator in the specific comfortable silence of people who had just shared something and didn’t need to discuss it immediately.
"She’s going to be extraordinary," said Sean.
"She already is," said Max.
The elevator arrived. Sean got in. Max stopped at the threshold.