As if right on cue, she had just turned off the TV as the old movie “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” ended, and her “uncle” showed up at her doorstep with the early snows of Winter.
As her mother would say “Good thing we’re Christians.”
He was not really blood related but he did grow up with her father as a “brother” and when her father died fifteen years ago, so did their bakery business. Her Dad had always “run” the business.
Sophia and her husband took care of him ever since, whenever he showed up.
“Hi, I’ve done good Pia,” which was his pet word for her, as he gave her an awkward hug. She wanted so bad to believe him but she knew he was a con artist, at least at telling lies.
He had conveniently fallen more times at major name brand stores in the hopes of filing lawsuits for “mental anguish suffered” and always carried a neck brace whenever he went to the unemployment office to check in. That’s the uncle she remembered.
“I won a quarter of a million dollars betting on a horse no one thought would win!” He had an uncanny way of picking up a conversation, as if he’d only been gone a week.
She listened politely. Sometimes her husband mistook her Christian kindness for weakness. Actually, it took more strength to be “kind” than to throw him out. He was sixty-two by now.
“Really? So what are you going to do now?” Sophia responded, dreading the “can I stay with you guys, till I get myself together” speech.
“I’ve come to make amends-payments so to speak,” he added. ” I know I owe you quiet a bit of dough. I’d like to make a little down payment. Opened up a little bakery in Kentucky. Got a wife now you know.”
Now, Sophia was really worried her uncle had gone of the deep end.
“Yup,” he continued, ” She’s a fine woman. Made me see a lot of things, too many sometimes! She’s coming for me in a bit. She knew I wanted to come see you. We combined business with pleasure. We’re here to pick up some supplies.”
Just then, a brand new, white utility van with the business logo “Pia’s Sweet Treats” drove up and honked twice. A rather mature lady leaned forward from the driver’s seat and motioned for my uncle to hurry as she was double parked on the busy street.
“I’ve got a little something-please accept?” he said rather hastily.
He left abruptly in the brand new van, and she looked at the envelope in her hand with the same logo in bright pink lettering, Pia’s Sweet Treats, and it contained five hundred dollars!”