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The Gift
One look at Fred you just knew he was a consummate yuppie. He was tall and thin with blond hair and blue eyes, much like his Norwegian parents. He was raised in Madison Wisconsin and his parents had established a large trust fund for him that became his on his twenty-first birthday. He was successful in his own right and had never touched it.
Fred had been a corporate attorney in Chicago for five years, had his high rise overlooking Lake Michigan, a BMW in the garage and anything he could want.
About once a month he would drive to a small lake, called Camelot, just southwest of Milwaukee where his parents had a small summer home. He would lounge around, play a little golf and water ski. It was peaceful there.
On Saturdays that he did not go to the lake he usually walked over to Papa Lee?s Pizza. Mama and Papa Lee had become like a second family to him. They lived over their place and their grand-daughter sometimes waited tables while attending college part-time. Her name was Cheryl and she and Fred had gone out many times.
On many occasions he would hang around until closing time and Papa would lock the door, bring a beer over to the table and they would sit and talk until late at night. They had escaped just as the communists were taking over.