One man pretends to be rich, yet has nothing; another pretends to be poor, yet has great wealth (Proverbs 13:7).

The town was incredulous, when the news came out about Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton's endowments.  Patty Jones couldn't stop talking about it, at the Cozy Corner Cafe.  "Did you see the latest story about the Pemberton's in yesterday's Daily Examiner?"

Shirley Grimwold nodded earnestly.

Patty asked the waitress for another cappuchino, as she continued.  "It's just incredible, don't you think?  I mean, who knew?!?  They lived for years in that tiny little house.  And Mr. Pemberton always wore those funny little polyester suits -- while, just think, he could have been wearing Armani!"

"Yup," said Susan Masterson.  "That's right."  Shirley just nodded again and looked down at the newspaper on the table in front of her.  The headline shouted:  "PEMBERTON GRANT TO ESTABLISH SCHOLARSHIP FUNDS FOR 20 LOCAL STUDENTS PER YEAR."  A large photograph showed the high school principal grinning like an idiot and shaking the hand of a bespectacled lawyer.  To the right of the columns of text beneath the headline and photograph was a smaller out-dated portrait of an elderly couple.  It was the same image that they had been using for all of the newspaper articles over the past week or two, since news of the Pembertons' endowments started leaking out following the death of Wilhelmina Pemberton at age 83, just six months after the passing of her husband, Frank Pemberton.  From the looks of the photograph, it had been taken over a decade previously, but it was the best image that existed of Mr. and Mrs. Pemberton.

"Do you remember how he would always walk to work, carrying his lunch in an old brown paper sack?"  Patty continued.  "I was always telling Dave that he should insist on driving him to work in the Escalade, since they worked on the same block anyway -- but he'd never have it.  He always said that he prefered to walk.  Can you believe it?  Turns out he could have had a Ferrari to drive to work!"

"Turns out he could have had a different color of Ferrari for every day of the week!" said Susan.

"Ha!  That's probably about true.  Wouldn't that have been lovely?  I've always told Dave that I want a Ferrari.  A nice cherry-red one," Patty's eyes gazed out the window, as if imagining her dream car.  "But to think that the old couple saved it all up so they could give it away to the College and to the Scholarship Fund and to the Church's building campaign..."

"And to the Make-a-Wish Foundation," added Susan.

"Right.  And to the Make-a-Wish Foundation!" Patty laughed.  "I wish that Dave could have talked into riding along to work.  Then we could've gotten to know them better.  Then maybe they would have given some of those endowments to the Community Theater program.  You know how strapped we are for cash these days."  She patted the side of her Louis Vuitton bag, propped on the table in front of her, as if to indicate the bag's skininess, its need of a good, hearty meal of Pemberton endowments.

"Oh, Patty," said Susan.  "I don't know how you do it: organizing the Community Theater program, working out at the Country Club, redecorating your home, hosting the weekly poker night for Dave and the guys... This community ought to be paying you for all the work that you put into organizing things around here!"  Shirley nodded vigorously, to second the motion.

"Oh, I wish they would, Susan!" said Patty.  "There's a new pair of Jimmy Choo's that I'm just dying to get!  But Dave says they're just too expensive," she sighed dramatically, desperately.  "I wonder how much Old Man Pemberton got paid for all those years.  He must have been making a fortune!  We just never knew.  I wish we had that kind of money, so we could dole it out for the posterity of mankind."  She spoke with a hint of sarcasm, flaying her hands out as if letting fistfuls of dollars drift to the ground on either side of her, like an overgrown flower girl at the world's most extravagant wedding.  "I know if Dave was pulling in that kind of money, I would be glad to help him manage the books," she said, smiling.

"Honestly, I can't imagine that he made that much money, as far as salary is concerned" said Shirley.  "They simply lived very modestly and saved just about everything they made and let compound interest do the rest.  I actually think it's very admirable what they've done:  the way they've helped the community, the way they're helping these high school graduates," she said, pointing to the newspaper headline.

Patty and Susan looked at each other for a moment, stunned by the frankness of their friend's comment.  Then they turned to each other and laughed.  They laughed and laughed, until tears rolled down their cheeks.  "C'mon, Shirley," said Patty.  "Would you lighten up just for one second?  The man was a millionaire, and he wore the same vintage 1974 poly-blend suit for the last three decades of his life.  Isn't that just ridiculous?"  She daubed at her mascara with a pocket handkerchief, lest it be marred by the tears of hilarity in the corners of her eyes.  "Well, hey -- I've got to get going?  Would one of you be able to pick up the tab for me today?  I'm clean out of cash this morning..." And without even waiting for an answer, she was up and on her way out the door.  "Toodle-oo, ladies!  See ya next time!"