The Lovely Chocolate Mob - By Richard J. Bennett Page 0,35
took my seat in the waiting area, and she offered me the usual coffee and candy, mostly chocolate. Lovely was a great town for chocolates; we probably had an “at-risk group” for obesity, and I was surprised the town hadn’t appeared on any national journalism shows or in any health magazines.
That day I had brought along a new toy, an electronic book. I sat and read an article on the life of Cornelius Lovely, trying to get some insight into his family situation, plus learn about his success in the chocolate trade. It was a fascinating read, an insight into the man who built a business and supported much of the town and how most people here, one way or another, owed something to Mr. Lovely. It wasn’t written by him; he was probably too busy for that, but he did allow the author some interviews; he must have been someone Old Man Lovely trusted, or else this was a puff-piece.
Miss Planter opened her office door and welcomed me in. I entered and sat, and she began asking questions, our normal routine by then. “How are you? How has your week been going? Any new developments?” I answered in the affirmative to these questions, so then she got specific. She wanted details. Not wanting to disappoint her, I told her of Helen Ceraldi-Burke, and the problems she’d been having with her husband. I told her about our conversation about spending and saving. Miss Planter seemed interested in this, so I left out no details.
I had already made mention that this old flame had contacted me a few weeks prior, and that she had confided in me how she wanted to preserve her marriage. Miss Planter paid close attention, while trying not to look too interested.
I said how I thought this old flame had been having financial difficulties with her husband because they had investments which had gone bad, plus had been trying to maintain their lifestyle. “You’re saying she’s rich?” Miss Planter asked.
“I’m saying she and her husband are very well off,” I answered. “I’m not really sure what constitutes ‘rich’ anymore. I suppose if you’re a billionaire, you’d be what everyone would call rich, but they’re nowhere near that figure. Let’s just say, if they chose to live simpler, they could be set for life. As it is now, they’re burning it up as fast as they make it, and time is working against them. Her husband is expressing an interest in retiring, and he’s their only monetary income at the moment.”
“You seem to know an awful lot of this old flame’s business. Don’t you think it’s risky for her to share too much information with you? You’re not a financial counselor, you know.”
“No, you’re right,” I said. “I’m not a financial counselor. But I’m cheap. Extremely cheap. And I prefer the term ‘thrifty.’”
Miss Planter laughed at this, and I smiled. It’s good when she laughs. It showed that she found me funny or ridiculous; I didn’t know which. Guess it didn’t matter.
“Explain to me how ‘thrifty’ you are, Mr. Owen.”
“Okay,” I said, accepting the challenge. “I have a small house, which is paid for. I have a car and a bicycle, both of which are also paid for. When one doesn’t work, I make do with the other. When something breaks, I try to fix it. When I see a sale on something I need, I’ll stock up. I try not to have a lavish lifestyle, because it would be hard to maintain. I’ve been able to save as a result, and I’ve managed to make a few investments. My goal is to be making as much money when I retire as I was making while working. I don’t know if I’ll make it, but it’s a goal.”
Miss Planter was making a few notes. “This doesn’t sound too extreme. You make it sound simple.”
“Oh, it’s not simple,” I replied. “I can be just as spend-foolish as the next person. I have to watch my mood swings so I don’t go out and purchase things on a whim. I’ll try to talk myself out of fast purchases. Most people I’ve met have this weakness; it’s a part of the human condition, I suppose.”
“You’ve brought up an interesting subject, Mr. Owen,” said Miss Planter. “Listening to you is like listening to a college professor. You have a reason and answer for most things you do.”
This was flattering to hear, coming from a pretty (and classy) lady like Miss Planter.