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Our shop was a success from day one. The location is good - facing Elm Street gate and Old Main.
Plentiful good trade was guaranteed by low prices and Margrethe's magic touch with food... and her
beauty and her sweet personality; we aren't selling calories, we're selling happiness. She piles a lavish
serving of happiness on each plate; she has it to spare.
With me to watch the pennies, our team could not lose. And I do watch pennies; if the cost of
ingredients ever kills that narrow margin on a hot fudge sundae, the price goes up. Mr Belial, president of
our bank, says that the country is in a long, steady period of gentle prosperity. I hope he is right;
meanwhile I watch the gross profit.
The town is enjoying a real estate boom, caused by, the, Farnsworths plus the change in climate it used
to be that the typical wealthy Texan had a summer home in Colorado Springs, but now that we no longer
fry eggs on our sidewalks, Texans are beginning to see the charms of Kansas. They say it's a change in
the Jet Stream. (Or is it the Gulf Stream? I never was strong in science.) Whatever, our summers now
are balmy and our winters are mild; many, of Jerry's friends or associates are buying land in Eden and
building summer homes. Mr Ashmedai, manager of some of Jerry's interests, now lives here year round -
and Dr Adramelech, chancellor of Eden College, caused him to be elected to the board of trustees, along
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with an honorary doctorate - as a former money-raiser I can see why.
We welcome them all and not just for their money... but I would not want Eden to grow as crowded as
Dallas.
Not that it could. This is a bucolic place; the college is our only 'industry'. One community church serves
all sects, The Church of the Divine Orgasm - Sabbath school at 9:30 a.m., church services at 11, picnic
and orgy immediately following.
We don't believe in shoving religion down a kid's throat, but the truth is that young people like our
community church - thanks to our pastor, the Reverend Dr M. 0. Loch. Malcolm is a Presbyterian, I
think; he still has a Scottish burr in his speech. But there is nothing of the dour Scot about him and kids
love him. He leads the revels and directs the rituals - our daughter Elise is a Novice Ecdysiast under him
and she talks of having a vocation. (Piffle. She'll marry right out of high school; I could name the young
man - though I can't see what she sees in him.)
Margrethe serves in the Altar Guild; I pass the plate on the Sabbath and serve on the finance board. I've
never, given up my membership in the Apocalypse Brethren but I must admit that we Brethren read it
wrong; the end of the millennium came and went and the Shout was never heard.
A man who is happy at home doesn't lie awake nights worrying about the hereafter.
What is success? My classmates at Rolla Tech, back when, may think that I've settled for too little,
owner with-the-bank of a tiny restaurant in a nowhere town. But I have what I want. I would not want to
be a saint in Heaven if Margrethe was not with me; I wouldn't fear going to Hell if she was there - not
that I believe in Hell or ever stood a chance of being a saint in Heaven.
Samuel Clemens put it: 'Where she was, there was Eden. 'Omar phrased it: '- thou beside me in the
wilderness, ah wilderness were paradise enow.' Browning termed it: 'Summum Bonum'. All were
asserting the same great truth, which is for me:
Heaven is where Margrethe is.
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