volunteer systems in Rivers Bend.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“The President and CEO, Steven, announced the event date at the funeral. I heard from Anne that Beverley didn’t even leave any money to them, not one dime.”
“She didn’t have much to leave.” I said, “unless there is a hedge fund she’s hiding somewhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“The house was mortgaged up past its value. Ben will be lucky to clear ten grand from the transaction, maybe less. And it appears much of her income went to the Shopping Network.”
“You have a lot of inside information.”
I took a deep breath, “I listed her house. And I still have the listing.”
“Ben still wants to sell? ” Carrie made the immediate and logical jump. I do love that about her. She looks cute, adorable, and in the right light, completely innocent, but I have learned not to underestimate her. Ever.
“Yes, he does .” I admitted.
Carrie tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Beverley loved to talk about her things. I heard she couldn’t get through a conversation without mentioning how much money she had and all the high fashion items she was planning to buy. She and Cynthia, the ED, sorry, President and CEO’s secretary at the Homeless Prevention League were always talking about sales at Nordstrom and the newest designs at Tiffany’s. Cyndi wasn’t at the funeral. I thought those two might have been friends, but then Cyndi was merely a secretary. Beverley was a board member.”
“A secretary and board member can ’t be friends?”
“What? Oh, God no.” Carrie said it with great authority, and I believed her. She knew more about the inner structure and social mores of a non-profit than I did.
“A lack of money does not prevent you from buying more stuff.” I pointed out. It was necessary to point that out to Carrie. She was naturally frugal, but she did it with style.
“ Beverley’s credit cards were maxed out.” I continued, not that it was really public knowledge, but Carrie was my best friend. “She had no savings, no IRA, nothing.” I shook my head, as a single woman, that kind of attitude was financial suicide, what did the woman think was going to happen? That Prince Charming was coming in to sweep her off her feet and take her to live happily ever after in Mexico or Tahiti?
No Prince Charming will save you. Sometimes what Prince Charming really wants is a loan. Forget the prince; invest in your IRA.
“Patrick is a big donor, so we’ll have to be there.” Carrie broke into my thoughts, “at the tribute event.”
Our waiter, James, brought a crème brûlée for me, and a chocolate lava cake for Carrie.
“I’m impressed.” I gazed at her chocolate dessert. No matter what I order, the other dessert always looks better.
“I’m celebrating.” Carrie poked her spoon into the surface of the dense pudding, and a small eruption of hot chocolate flowed down to the white plate. She toasted me with her chocolate- mounded spoon. “Patrick fired our personal trainer.”
Katherine and Rosemary should be so lucky.
There is nothing better than a three-hour lunch (with wine) with Carrie to revive my faith in the world. I floated into the office intending to be seen, then I planned to float out just as quickly, pretending I had a series of important appointments to attend. What I was actually planning to do was nap. There is not much else a person can do with the afternoon after consuming half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc.
My cell rang, and I foolishly answered, breaking up my euphoria and my immediate plans.
“Come with me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t ask questions, say yes and come with me.” He repeated.
“ To the Kasbah, to Hawaii, to Tahiti (once I mentioned it, it was on my mind), on a long cruise?”
“No, to the Homeless Prevention League dinner.”
“Why is it a League?”
“League sounds more official. They once wanted to call it a fleet, after the number
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