Chris Rogers, Author

Making Waves by Roger Paulding

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At Cannes, Fred enjoyed the beach while the lovely Berry used her soft, sensitive hands to apply his sun lotion. And didn't he love watching her lovely thighs as she sauntered toward him? Not a sign of cellulite, not a jiggle of fat.

He and Berry toured Paris, Rome and London. Berry swamped Mildred's friends with picture postcards of Notre Dame, the Acropolis, the Vatican, while whining about how much fun a little gambling would be and how boring all those old museums were and why couldn't they go to Monaco and gamble?

" Mildred enjoyed the arts," he told her pointedly. "Be sure your cards reflect that."

And so Berry wrote cards that bragged about what a grand old time poor dead Mildred was having with her wonderful husband. And tacked on, "Miss you so much, Milly."

Cards went to Mildred's best friend, wife of the police chief. More to Mildred's second best friend. Her husband was mayor. And some to Mildred's comatose mother in a rest home. Berry nearly trashed those. "Such a waste of good postage," she complained.

Frugal, in her own way. At least, he didn't have a gold-digger on his hands. He would marry Berry, of course, but not right away.

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