Floyd Smernitch was wonderful. That’s the idea, anyway. His best friend, Clark Forrest, thought so. His stepson, Richard, thought so too. Why wouldn’t they? Floyd lavished attention on them without judgment, dedicating his life to enriching theirs. In exchange he asked for nothing they weren’t able to freely give.
What if you’re Carol Love-Smernitch, though? Tens of thousands of dollars in debt thanks in large part to Floyd’s inability to get his act together, you find the things you want to improve your quality of life — “nicer plates and bowls for the household” and “more grown-up furniture for Richard” are repeated like mantras — maddeningly out of reach. That’s to say nothing of the more important stuff, like tuition for a private school where Richard won’t be so left out. They’ve got to cut corners and say “no way José” (repeatedly) to excess spending untIl then.
Of course
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