Tough. You want to know tough? Try getting up from an intial defeat and being made to eat crow the next time out. The first place I stumble on that looks halfway decent, who is behind the door but Mr. Coffee
himself.
My disguise proved useless. He did not even acknowledge it.
"I'm gonna be charitable with you this time," he said softly, Godfatherlike.
He motioned to my wallet which I handed to him out of sheer panic. The notion that life was worth anything here had long since vanished. He extracted a c note and within seconds was back in his air-conditioned
Caddy cruising far beyond where my tired feet had carried me.
I watched him disappear over a slight rise. His car was an affront. I made up my mind to have it. Yes. A Caddy with air. I would show him.
There was something interesting four lots up. I approached slowly on foot. It was a larger unit. It had heft. It held profit. It sat like a monument among slums.
It was occupied. I knocked. I couldn't believe it. I thought girls like the one who appeared were all back in Massachusetts, She had the straggly look of someone who used to being defeated and took no care to appear interested or expectant or anything but depressed. I asked her if the place was available. She called, "Frank!"
Central Casting must have beein in charge this morning. This was more like it Frank turned out to be crisp and upbeat and well-clothed, the polar opposite of Ms. Whatever. Within minutes we had sealed a deal for around ten percent of my remaining stake.This was a stand alone income property Coffee had managed
by pass. I later learned that Mr. Coffee had urgent business up ahead. An early morning golf match with
some of the boys.
It was my first good feeling of the day.
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