There is a widow who lives a few doors from me. She knows everybody in the neighbourhood. As things go, she is one of the most friendly persons I've known these thirty years or so.
It is a good thing that she is shrewd and manages to hide the fact that she is an heiress. Even her husband did not know of her trust fund income. She has a good friend who allows her to use the latter's mailing address for investments and bank statements. There she is, an ordinary middle age woman who drives a tiny car. While her children were schooling, she was a transportation lady for school and tutoring classes. After all, might as well pick up a few hundreds while ferrying her children around.
After her husband passed on rather suddenly due to respiratory problems, folks were recommending her part-time jobs left and right. It was out of good intentions to help her as she looked distraught and haggard. Little did others know that it was not finances that caused her stress. It was her three children and her mother's disagreements that caused her much headaches until the legacies were safely banked away. Then she bounced back to her happy-go-lucky self. The last time I met her, she was back into her swing of ballroom dancing classes, line dancing mornings and other social whirls.
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