the merry-go-round. When Aunt Minnie died and left us Minaret, we simplified our lives, moved to Tampa, cut back on the dollar hunt. But sometimes, like today, when I saw how successful some of my colleagues were who hadnât dropped out of the race, I wondered if Iâd made the right choice.
That evening over cocktails, I told George about my visit with OâConnell Worthington and the splendor of his offices. âItâs been pretty well known for quite some time that OâConnell has had a significant reversal of fortune,â he told me as he was turned the page of todayâs Investorâs Business Daily . âFive years ago, his house was in foreclosure and heâd been posted at the Club for failure to pay dues on four or five occasions. Now itâs quite a different story and Iâm glad to know what the explanation is. Thereâve been some very wild stories around town about the source of his wealth. I like OâConnell. Iâm glad to learn his financial reversal is due to good old American hard work and nothing else.â Nothing else that marrying money didnât cure, at any rate. Thatâs what I thought at the time.
CHAPTER TEN
Tampa, Florida
Thursday 7:20 p.m.
January 7, 1999
LATER, I CHANGED INTO a canary-yellow sweat suit and made myself a drink. I went out to our balcony and sat with my feet propped up, lighting up my first Partaga of the day. It was after dusk, but not dark. The sky was filled with reds and oranges. Tomorrow would be another beautiful day. I was still sitting there, contemplating what to do about Carlyâs problem when George came out to join me. I was glad to see heâd brought a larger than usual glass of Glenfiddich.
âHow do you feel about room service tonight?â he asked me as he sat down in the rocker next to mine. âI can order up some poached salmon over greens with raspberry vinaigrette and fresh sourdough rolls. What do you say?â
âSounds good to me,â I answered him, still contemplating.
âIâll give you a silver dollar for your thoughts. They look valuable.â
âI was just thinking how really unfortunate it is that the police department never closes.â Then, I told George, my partner in all things, about Carlyâs visit.
âWhat is it about you that brings everyone with a problem to your door?â The question was rhetorical. It was far from the first time Iâd been asked. Nor the first time Iâd asked it of myself. For a long time I felt as if I walked into every room with a large sign around my neck that said âbring your problems to Willa.â In every crowd, at every party, in every organization I joined, it seemed I soon became the âmotherâ of the group. Messy divorce? Problems with your children? Out of money? Weight problems? Drugs, alcohol, gambling? Ask âDear Willa a/k/a Mighty Mouse.â
Now that I know myself better, I know I wear my philosophy on my sleeve. You see, I believe all problems can be solved. Itâs that simple. And most people donât. Most people just want to wallow in it, but they donât want it fixed, especially if the fix requires the acceptance of personal responsibility and personal change. On some level, I like solving problems, other peopleâs problems anyway.
I accepted that was why Carly had come to me in the first place. Not because she had any special affection for me. Itâs just that Iâve always been the problem solver. And she certainly had a problem. Where else would she go?
But this time, George was as distressed by Carlyâs situation as I had been, maybe more. If I try to mother everyone who comes along, George takes in strays, any stray, as long as theyâre a stray. Because Carly had been estranged from the family lately, George was particularly protective. Heâd always liked Carly and he felt protective of her.
âDonât you know someone to whom you could