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Having owned and operated a retail sales and service business in Sarasota for forty-two years did, indeed, expose me to many day-to-day experiences with an O. Henry-style outcome.

Mr. and Mrs. Fred Stephenson operated their fashionable ladies’ fine wear clothing store on upscale South Palm Avenue for many years. Mrs. Stephenson always wore the latest fashions, even the latest in driving gloves when operating her shiny Buick sedan. Class? She exuded class by the ton.

After becoming a widow, Mrs. “S” decided to sell her house in Harbor Acres and move out to Arizona to live with her daughter. Since some of her door locks needed attention she phoned her favorite locksmith.

When I got there I spent a half hour on her locks and then we reminisced for an hour about the Sarasota we once knew. After getting a check and a hug, I headed out on to my next outside call.

When I got back to the shop, Diane handed me a hard cover edition of “The Story of Sarasota,” by Karl Grismer. The author had signed it, “To Mrs. Fred Stephenson, affectionately, Karl Grismer.” I immediately phoned her to tell her that the thought that she had given me a treasured sentiment overwhelmed me. She said, “Pete, don’t go overboard. That sentiment was for the first Mrs. Stephenson, not me, and I’m not taking anything to Arizona that used to belong to that witch!”

Life was/is good.