The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,33

don’t work now. Franklin does. I’m not saying being a wife and mother isn’t work, but I imagine you’ve got plenty of help, with cooks and maids and probably sitters or nursemaids. You dress to the nines, even right now.” I gestured my hand up and down Helen’s outfit, as if she couldn’t see it herself. “You look like you’re dressed to kill. I’ve got a question for you: Do all of your children attend private schools?”

Helen was still shocked. So I continued talking.

“I thought so.” Actually, I knew so. “Since you’re at home anyway, why don’t you home school them? Teach them everything you know, then turn them over to the school systems. As I recall, you were a pretty good student. You’re probably brighter than most teachers.”

Helen looked betrayed. “Why are you saying all this, Randall? Whose side are you on?”

“I’m not on anybody’s side, except for Mr. Truth. I’m saying all of this because I think I’m aware of a problem your marriage is having. Franklin is tired of working. He’s probably working his tail off, but he’s not getting ahead. You live on a high level, as though you’re rich and will never go broke. What happens if Franklin dies? Do you have any money stashed away? Do you have a 401K plan, or in your case, a 401M plan? Have you made provisions for the future?”

Helen looked down. “No, not really. We had some investments, but they all went bust in the stock market. We’re trying to make our mortgages and hope to pay off our house one day.”

“Where is Mindy going to college? Nearby, or out-of-state?” I asked.

“She’s attending an Ivy League school up north…” said Helen, answering a question to which I already knew the answer.

I pressed on. “What’s she going to learn there… psychology, sociology, fine arts?”

Now Helen looked angry for a moment, then the light bulb went on in her head. “She’s taking journalism. You think we’re living beyond our means. You think we spend too much.”

“Yes, that’s what I think. I’ll tell you more if you want to hear.”

She was quiet and took a drink. She then said, “Yes, I want to hear. I want to know what you think.”

I brought it down a notch and shifted into gentle. “Okay, let me tell you how I see it. I think you’re living like wealthy people. There’s nothing wrong with being rich, but do you know how hard it is on a man trying to maintain a high standard of living for his family? He’s always got to be working. He’s always worrying. He’s always under constant pressure, especially if his wife is a spendthrift.” Helen looked up here. “Now I’m not saying you’re totally to blame. I think you two need to revamp your lifestyles so one of you doesn’t have to be worrying about money all the time.”

Helen began to look down again, and didn’t say anything, so I decided to continue.

“You live in a high-dollar mansion in the super-nice part of town, when a regular ‘A-Frame’ two-story would probably do for your family just as well.”

Helen looked up and asked, “What do you want us to do, live in the slums?”

“No, nobody said you had to live in a slum. I’m just looking for solutions to a problem, which I think is destroying your relationship with your husband. Franklin is obviously a part of the problem as well. He may have placed himself in this situation; some of the expenses you’ve incurred may be his fault.”

Helen calmed down, just a bit. Then I went in to follow up. “Are you and Franklin in debt?”

She looked up. “We have bills.”

“That’s not what I asked. We all have bills. I asked if you were in debt.”

Helen looked exasperated. She shut her eyes and said, “Yes, we owe on everything. We owe on the house, we owe on the cars, we owe the college, we owe the private schools. We don’t have any money except for what Franklin earns. If he died tomorrow, the kids and I would be broke and have to give up everything. No college, no schools, no house, no country club.”

“That country club doesn’t quite sound like a necessity,” I said, hoping she’d get a little riled.

“Randall, you just don’t know how it is. Doctors who work for hospitals have to keep up professional appearances. They and their family members have to have the expensive cars; people expect us to look intelligent and successful. We mix with