Buddy Armstrong and Sadie Mae Glutz, my two elderly, busybody cashiers, had everything under control, so I skittered into my office around eleven a.m. to do a little paperwork. My “paperwork” always included some sneaky business. I got away with stealing money from the business by doctoring up invoices and creating a few for vendors that didn’t exist. All that extra money went into my pocket. My in-laws, bless their gullible hearts, had never questioned anything I did, so I was going to keep doing the same thing as long, and as often, as I needed to. Taking care of Betty Jean and the kids was a huge expense. It wasn’t no big deal to me. In a good week at the store, there was so much money to be skimmed off the top, it amazed me. On top of that steady cash flow, I snuck merchandise from the store to give Betty Jean and the boys, not to mention her relatives and a few other folks in Hartville I had to be nice to. But I didn’t care how much money I had access to, I didn’t want to keep doling it out to Yvonne and Milton.

I couldn’t stop patting myself on the back for coming up with the brilliant plan that had got rid of them two bums. With their greedy hands out of my pocket, I’d have even more money to live it up with. One of the first things I planned to buy to celebrate my new life was a new car. The Ford Model T I had now still ran pretty good. But the lights got only so bright—even though I had recently replaced the battery—and the tires was practically bald. I couldn’t let that go on too much longer. It was important for a man in my position to showcase a prosperous image. A LaSalle was the vehicle I had in mind. The only other colored folks in Branson that owned such a classy set of wheels was our doctors and other prominent folks. My first choice was a white one so I could show off my flawless coffee-colored skin.

I was also going to buy Betty Jean some new furniture and have a telephone installed. And eventually I’d move her and the boys to a bigger and better house. The boys could still share the same room, but I wanted the baby girl we’d been working on creating to have one to herself. When all the holiday activity died down, I’d take Betty Jean and the boys on a nice vacation to Miami. We would lounge on a beach for at least a week. In the meantime, I had to come up with a good excuse that would explain me leaving Joyce by herself for that much time. That was the least of my worries. I could tell her black was white and she’d believe me.