Author’s note: This is a story in my style, if you have a dislike for the men and women I create, please do not continue.

She was packing for a business trip. What I saw was not anything I had seen before.

Sometimes troubles in relationships are not talked about, but there are often clues.

I am Frank Smitter and when I saw what was in her carry on case, I was 37 and had been married to Carol for six years. If I did not end it, I would not be married for seven.

I first met Carol Smitter (nee Chambers) when I was in 18 and in high school. I was a senior and she was a new transfer junior. She and her family moved in and lived down the street from my family.

She and I became friends when her family moved into our town in July. My mother was the ultimate ‘Welcome Wagon’ even though there wasn’t one in our town. Mother was at their door before the moving van left. Of course, being a mother, she volunteered me to help move furniture and other assorted brawn required tasks.

I didn’t dare say no, because ‘when momma speaks, gods listen’ so I ended up assembling furniture (beds, shelves in bookcases, etc.) and moving stuff that Carol’s mother decided was in the wrong place. She was the only one there that first day, and after I got the beds together and set up and stuff moved, she sat me down and offered me some lemonade.

While I was sitting in their kitchen drinking the lemonade, I was brought up to speed on their family and the move. There was Carol, 16 and Jack Jr., 13 and they moved to our town when Jack Sr. got a promotion and transfer. The rest of the family would be there the next day.

Carol would be starting her junior year and was young for the grade because her birthday is in October. JJ (Jr.) would be starting as a freshman for the same reason except his birthday is in September.

Carol and entourage arrived as scheduled the next day. I saw her, her brother and her father moving clothes from the SUV to the house. I was again dragooned into helping. Of course in the process of helping, I talked to Carol. She wanted information on the kids our age, and about the school.

Carol was a very pretty girl. She was about 5’ 7” and had a beautiful smile. I liked her from the first day.

Once school started, Carol was on the outside of the social scene. Our schools, like all that I have ever heard of, had cliques that tended to exclude every one not meeting their criteria or who are new. So Carol was not in any cliques when I met her.

I wasn’t either, but I was sort of liked by all of the cliques. I was an AP student, so I was asked to be a tutor for underclassmen. Two of my charges were Carol and her brother.

I asked Carol to go to the homecoming dance with me. She agreed. When I picked her up she was gorgeous. She had on a beautiful light pink dress, and while it was very modest, it was also sexy. We had a great time. After the dance, I asked if we could date some more.

She said; “I would like that, I had a great time, and would like to have more good times.” Then when I walked her to her door she kissed me.

We dated all through my senior year, but I never asked for exclusivity. I knew I was going out of town for college.

When it came time to prepare for the senior prom. I asked Carol to go with me to the prom. I got a surprise when she turned me down.

“Tommy Jurgen asked me to go with him, and because you hadn’t asked me I said yes.” Then she said; “I’m sorry, you were too late asking.”

What could I say to that? I said; “OK, have a good time. I guess I’ll see about signing up for summer classes at U of M. It has been nice going out with you. I’m sorry I took so long, I mean the dance is only a month away.” I was hurt.

After Carol turned me down for the prom I did not talk to her again for years.

I had a full-ride academic scholarship to the University of Michigan. I was an early enrollee and had an opportunity to start during the summer session. I signed up for the courses and went to Ann Arbor in the middle of June. I moved into the dorm and started classes.

I didn’t see Carol again for four years until I graduated with an MBA in financial planning. I got a job as a broker with a national firm in the office in my home town. Carol came in one day to open an account with her inheritance from her Grandmother. It wasn’t huge, but for the times and for her age of 20, it was substantial. I intended to pass her off to someone else in the office. I felt it would not be right for me to handle her money.

“Frank, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you. I wondered what happened to you. Your mother and father stopped talking to us about you when I stopped dating you.”

“That’s ok Carol, just so you understand that this is not because you decided to go with someone else, but because I would not be comfortable handling your money. I will turn you over to someone else.”

“Why won’t you work with me? What happened in high school was a long time ago.”

“I am not comfortable working with you. Exactly why is not important. I just feel that handling money from someone I had or am having a relationship with is not right. I’m sorry. If you chose to go to a different brokerage house, I will give you some recommendations. There are also several people in this office how will do a careful and excellent management of your funds.”

With that, I called my office manager and handed her off to him. After she left, the manager came back to my office and asked why I would not handle her fund. I explained that I was not comfortable having a business relationship with someone that I had dated. He wasn’t buying it. He told me that she was not going to use any of the other brokers and had insisted that I handle her fund.

I said; “I’ll solve that problem. I will not handle her fund. If you insist, my resignation will be on your desk as soon as I can print it out. I feel that my personal ethics are more important than this job.”

The manager said ok and left. I printed the resignation and was out the door in fifteen minutes.

I was at home that afternoon when the phone rang. It was from Carol. She asked; “Why won’t you work for me? When I told the manager that I wanted you, he said he would make it happen. Then twenty minutes later he called me and said you quit when he ordered you to take my account.”

“I quit because my personal ethics will not let me work with you. I won’t work with my family, my friends, or enemies; anyone that I might have feelings that could cloud judgment about some recommendations. As I told you in the office it has nothing to do with what you did to me in high school. I will not handle your money. End of discussion. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“No,” she said and ended the call.

I found a new job at a different brokerage office within commuting distance within a week. Once I was situated in my new job, some of my old accounts came to me to take over their funds.

I also decided to start doing my own investing. I received a big bonus after my first quarter in the new office. I used it to start investing in penny stocks. I made sure to inform my new company of what I was doing and got their ok as long as I did not use one of that office’s brokers to make the trades. I was also warned not to use any information found on company computers to influence my trades.

I seemed to have a good head for picking companies that would move up. I bought a couple of local companies stock at between $2 and $5 dollars a share and one flipped in ninety days at $45 dollars and the other shortly after at $56 a share. With that money, I decided to quit working for others and started day trading. I passed off my accounts to brokers I trusted.

In six months, I had turned my $8000 bonus into just under $250,000. Before the year was out, I was more than a millionaire. Not bad for a guy who was under 30.

My lawyer and tax accountant suggested that I create a trust to put my money in. Then the trust would pay the taxes on the interest and I would only pay taxes on what I took out of it.

With the trust, I bought a house for cash in the country on a nice wooded 5-acre lot and moved in. I put the rest of my money into several small companies except $100,000 that I figured to live on for the next couple of years. Oh, I almost forgot, I bought a $1000 seat at a local poker tournament and won a seat at the WSOP main event.

I did alright in the Main Event. I also cashed in two other bracelet events. In those two weeks, I cashed to the tune of over $650,000. Of course, when I got back home I saw that I had been written up in the local newspaper.

That started calls from long lost relatives, shady charities, and everyone with a get rich quick scheme. I changed my house phone number and had it unlisted. Then I canceled my cell service and went with a different provider. That stopped most of the calls.

I no longer needed to day trade and I was getting bored with it so I started to get serious about my hobby of writing fiction. I didn’t know if I was any good, but I was willing to invest a couple of years in trying. I submitted a couple of chapters and an outline to a literary agent and he took me on as a client.

I finished the first book, and after six or seven rejections, my agent got a publisher to take a chance. There was no advance because I demanded all of the copyrights remained mine. It was published and did well. I got a contract and a large advance for three more books over the next five years.

I was sitting in my den watching ‘Poker Night In America’ on cable when the house phone rang. It was from Carol. First thing I asked is how she got my number

“Your mother gave it to me.”

That figures; I think she liked Carol more than me. We talked for about an hour, and in the end, I somehow agreed to take her to dinner Friday night.

The date went well, but I had no intention of a second date; so I took her home walked her to her door and declined a cup of coffee. I walked away assuming that that was the last social event with her I would have.

Nope, she called several times and I was finally worn down after a few weeks and agreed to date again.

Carol seemed to be upset with me when we went out.

“OK, Miss Chambers, you are obviously mad at me about something. Do you care to enlighten me about what I did to piss you off?” Then I continued. “You asked me for this date, I agreed. Do you treat all your dates like dog crap on your shoe?”

She looked at me and started to say something and then thought better of what it was. She just said; “I’m sorry. Can we talk for a while and then you can take me home?”

“Sure this is your date; your talk; so go ahead.”

“Ok; why haven’t you tried to reconnect with me since you came home from college?”

“Because I thought I had a girlfriend in high school, and she backstabbed me on the most important date night of my senior year. I found out where I stood when I was told I waited too long to ask the girl I was dating for most of the school year and who I took to the homecoming dance. She thought I was taking too long to ask her to the prom. It was only over a month away when I did ask and I was told I was too late. I found it funny that I didn’t get to go to the dance because she was with the one guy in school who bragged about fucking every one of his dates since junior high.” Then I asked; “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah, I guess it does. Just so you know, I didn’t go to the prom either, I found out the asshole talked and often lied about his dates. I also found out that you had a lot of friends at school even after you graduated. I was never asked out by anyone my entire senior year. My first date after you graduated was when I got to Western Michigan and was in the second semester of my freshman year. I wasn’t even asked to pledge at any of the sororities.” Then she added; “I have regretted that answer to the prom question for over eight years now. Don’t you have any feelings for what we had?”

“Let’s see, feelings after eight years. Well, I still have the hurt of the girl I planned to date while I was in college turning me down for the last date of my high school career.” I ended with; “Yeah, I guess I have some feelings, all of them uncomfortably bad for you. I still do not know why I accepted this date from you.”