My dear sister Rose Lotus dropped by last night, her eyes red from crying. It’s some kind of pattern – the men screw up and their wives contact me for help – I guess it’s my basic animal magnetism that makes them identify me with salvation; although I am aware that sounds a bit kinky when I’m talking about my older sister, but you know from my previous posts, dear reader, what an extremely strong personality she has. Rose Lotus married a fellow named Henry Palikowski who, while admittedly a Catholic, like us Martinis, is also Polish, not Italian. The Poles are, for the most part, tall, blonde, blue-eyed and very handsome people – sort of a Slavic version of the Germans. I like Poles, particularly Polish women, probably because I find them very easy to seduce.
The Poles have an undeserved reputation for being stupid – that’s simply not true. Every interesting Catholic ethnic group has one true and tragic flaw, but stupidity is not the Poles’. The Irish flaw is their love of strong drink. The French flaw is their penchant for promiscuity. The Italian flaw is their unbridled temper. The Portuguese flaw is their obsession with blood. The Spanish flaw is their obsession with homoerotic machismo. I could go on, but you get the idea.
The Poles’ true and tragic flaw is that they are too trusting. When you think about it, you gotta admit, the Poles have a most virtuous, innocent, and, well, downright Christian flaw. I firmly believe that if everybody in the world trusted each other the way the Poles so simply and perfectly trust each other and, unfortunately for them, everybody else, Jesus would at last be happy, God the Father would be satisfied in his most prized creations and the Holy Ghost would cast benediction upon the whole wide world. The Poles are certainly a sweet, hard working and well meaning people, for all their obvious lack of guile, and I will stipulate for the record that Henry has always been very good to Rose and the children, and a sufficient provider as well.
Hank has a pretty good job with Pabulex, a large infant and toddler supply company. Maybe you’ve heard of the Big Baby Bo-Bo, a very successful pacifier and a highly profitable Pabulex product – that’s one of Hank’s accounts; he even came up with a diversification strategy that tripled sales. Thanks to Hank, mothers can now purchase Big Baby Bo-Bo’s in Soft, Extra Soft, Regular, Hard and Extra Tough textures; then select across those choices for Petite, Regular, Long and Extra Long lengths. Hank put demonstrator racks of all 20 combinations in the retail outlets; a golden-rectangle matrix with the five textures along the top and the four lengths down the side. In case the retail store was out of a particular texture/length combination, Hank had a Web site URL emblazoned along the top of the tastefully polished maple wood demonstrator rack. And, of course, once mothers knew which cell in the rack matrix they were, they could order replacements right off the Net, shipped to them in a plain brown wrapper. “Exactly matching the comforting sensation of mom’s equipment authentically was never so easy and affordable. Order from the Web site and get it in a plain brown package less than three days later!” That’s how Hank loudly and proudly explained the idea for my benefit, and that of Rose, my date and everybody else standing in the lobby one night not long ago, during intermission at Arena Stage. I think that’s why Sir Robert Aubrey Davis has stopped speaking to me. Oh, well. Anyway, I think that proves Poles can be very clever – the Bo-Bo rack and the Web site, that is, not the comment in the lobby. I think the comment in the lobby just proves that Hank is really, really into his work and probably also proves that Hank doesn’t go to the theater very much.
Hank’s been with Pabulex for seventeen years, which is good, because, like every hard working Polish guy with a large family, he needs a steady source of income. Hank’s got jack squat of his own, really, despite his college education in the Big Ten – everything he earns goes for the house, the kids, the cars, the groceries, the orthodontist, the various music, art and drama teachers, the family vacation hideaway on the lake in the mountains a five hour RV drive away, and so forth and so on, to the point where someone like myself would be ready to jump off a bridge. But not Hank. No, Hank’s got his large and loving family, and with that, things that wealthy bachelors like me don’t have, and vice versa; and I suppose we each will die envying each other for what turns out to be no good reason at all.
But there is one thing that Hank has, and that is his 401(k). And Hank’s 401(k) is what my dear sister Rose stopped by, her eyes red as her namesake, to talk with me about. Now, as you may have gleaned from my previous posts, dear reader, I get plenty of excitement earning a living. Tales of my 401(k) would put a St. Louis insomniac to sleep in fifteen minutes, tops. I swear, there are little old ladies with investment portfolios ten times as exciting as mine – I guess I take after my grandfather, who, as I mentioned in a previous post, had little respect for Wall Street and its promises of easy prosperity through investment.
Hank, on the other hand, has driven five 401(k) managers to such distraction that the sixth one recently referred him to a seventh. Hank’s one of those people who treats his 401(k) like it’s a day-trading account. And the last thing anybody who collects the relative pittance doled out to 401(k) managers wants to deal with is somebody like that.
Hank went nuts during the 1990’s of course, constructing a 410(k) portfolio that I believe set some kind of record for value deflation when the dot-bust hit. You can imagine, dear reader, I am sure, the intensity of the psychodrama that nearly wracked dear Roses’ family when things went south like that; it was almost the end of their marriage. Not, I might point out, because Rose was threatening to walk out on Hank after nine years of frantic and maniacal dealings in equities that had yielded him three cents on the dollar, but rather because Hank himself was about ready to head for the freight yard with a knapsack and a bottle of Night Train. Hank simply could not handle the concept of people being so despicably dishonest – he was on the verge of giving up on the human race completely. As I recall, it took us months to talk him out of becoming a hobo; and the fact that he and Rose already had several children was, I think, the only thing that kept him from doing it.
But eventually, Hank got over being screwed by Wall Street, and, like so many, many others, he went back, prostrated himself, buns up, in front of the NYSE, inserted a hefty sized tube of KY in the expected location and begged the likes of Bear, Stearns, Morgan Stanley and UBS to mercilessly rape him once more.
Well, duh, they did – and that’s why Rose was crying into her cup of $300-dollar-a-pound palm-civet-cat coffee in my kitchen (I save it for special guests, you know, and Rose does have a lot of beatings upon the young Yours Truly for which to atone – let’s say I’m shortening her time in Purgatory – oops, the Vatican called that off didn’t they? OK, let’s just call it sneaky sibling revenge, then).
“This is really great coffee, Tom,” Rose sobbed, “it’s got notes of citrus, banana, berries and tropical fruits.” She stopped to blow her nose and took another sip. “Extraordinary flavor. Is it expensive?”
“Oh yeah, Rose, it costs more than practically any other coffee, tea or herb beverage – that’s legal, anyway. It comes from Indonesia. Very rare.”
“It’s… special to come over to visit you, Tom. It reminds me of… home. With Mom and Dad in Little Italy, eating roasted veal cheeks, linguini and mussels in Marsala wine sauce; and bruschetta – garnished with slices of aged Parmesan cheese and Balsamic vinegar; grilled with those tomatoes and basil Dad grew in the greenhouse on the roof.”
“Shoppers Food Warehouse finally getting to you?”
“Tom,” she said, taking one of my homemade almond biscotti from the glass humidor on the marble topped kitchen island, “I really love Henry, but his idea of cuisine has never gotten past hamburgers and Domino’s Pizza.”
“And your decor has never gotten past Ikea,” I observed dryly.
“True,” she said, dipping the biscotti into the palm civet cat coffee, stopping for a moment to savor the blend of flavors, then sighing in a strangely satisfied way, “but actually, if you have children, you can’t own the kind of stuff you have around here, Tom, because you’d kill the little bastards when they broke your Ming vase, or whatever.”
“That vase in the living room is T’ang Dynasty, Rose,” I corrected her, as I sipped some exquisite white tea, the name of which I shall not mention, since it’s expensive enough already. “You’re house poor and children poor. That’s the fate of the American middle class. If misery loves company, you’ve got plenty.”
“Yeah, but we need something to retire on, Tom. My retirement portfolio isn’t that big – how much money can you save on your own if you’re an elementary school teacher? I’ve always counted on Henry’s retirement portfolio to carry most of the weight for us. But he just keeps diddling around with it, trying to get rich and getting taken to the cleaners instead.”
“And that’s why you’ve dropped in for a visit, then?”
“Yes, Tom,” Rose sighed, this time with obvious sadness, “Hank’s managed to run the fortune of his 401(k) back into a shoestring again.”
“How’d that happen?”
“After the crash in 2000, Hank did all right for a couple of years. He built up the value of his portfolio to about half of what it was in 1999. But starting about 2003, it seemed no matter what he did, he lost money.”
“He’s certainly not alone in that,” I pointed out, “2003 was when the hedge funds started paying big bucks for insider information.”
Rose blanched. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” I continued, “In 2004 and 2005, for example, there was Johnson and Johnson’s failed $24.2 billion bid for Guidant Corporation, UnitedHealth Group’s $8.2 billion acquisition of PacifiCare Health Systems Incorporated and ProLogis’s $5.5 billion purchase of Catellus Development Corporation. It was common knowledge, among the informed at least, that hedge funds were paying for insider information on those.”
Rose took a gulp of coffee “What are hedge funds and why would they pay for insider information?”
“Hedge funds are based on the risk-adjusted rate of return concept. The hedge fund manager invests in a combination of equities, options and derivative instruments in order to exploit the tendency for opposite motion in prices as hidden variables express themselves through unexpected events which affect stock prices. Multivariant mathematical models constructed in large numbers of dimensions are used to specify portfolio buys and sells…”
“Tom, you’re talking to an ordinary human here,” Rose interrupted, “could you explain that in plain English?”
“Sure,” I continued, “Note that when plum pies decrease in value, cherry pies increase and vice versa. Estimate the relative change in plum pie and cherry pie values, then buy more or less of one flavor or the other, so that no matter which way the price of either pie goes, you make money. Find other situations involving other types of pies. Fix things so you can put a finger in every pie, but only to the optimum depth.”
“So,” Rose conjectured, “if I buy airline stocks, I should also buy crude oil futures. That way, I avoid losing money on my airline investment if oil prices go up?”
“Not bad for a beginner,” I opined, “just goose that up by a few orders of magnitude over a huge selection of equities, options, indexed futures, commercial paper and so forth; then trade like a monkey on Benzedrine 24/7. If you’re the only person doing it, you mint money; the first hedge fund operations were ridiculously successful. But as more and more greedy guys and gals came a-running, the competition started to heat up. By 2002, it was intolerably fierce – all the risk-adjusted slack in the market was completely staked out and being fought over. There wasn’t really any more of the magic juice to be had. So in order to survive, the hedge funds started bribing people at stock brokerages, exchanges and investment banks for inside information that would allow the hedge fund managers to simply make what they knew would be a profitable investment and to hell with the Markowitz Efficient Frontier Theory of Portfolio Management.”
“So they started cheating,” Rose concluded with a satisfied thump of her coffee cup on the marble counter top, “but that’s illegal, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied, “as illegal as armed robbery, heroin possession or arson. But much harder to prove. Suppose some bozo from the SEC interviews a hedge fund manager and says, ‘What’s up with this huge trade in Guidant three days before Johnson and Johnson announced their abandonment of the Guidant offer?’ If somebody like Hank had dumped the shares, that would look really suspicious, but the hedge fund manager just says ‘Hey, I do hundreds of trades every day. I can’t even be sure that particular trade wasn’t a mistake. It wouldn’t matter if it was a mistake, anyway, since our portfolio model cancels out risk to such a degree, the fund can’t lose. So that particular trade paid off like a long shot in the Kentucky Derby – so what?’ All the hedge fund manager needs to do is keep blowing smoke like that, and as long as he or she doesn’t confess or get turned in by somebody they were paying for the insider information, practically speaking they can never get caught.”
“So that’s what Hank’s been up against for the last five years?”
“Sure. That’s what every honest individual investor has been up against for the last five years.”
Rose turned skeptical on me – “Now, I know you’re always privy to the lowdown stuff, Tom, but are you sure that this whole thing with hedge funds corrupting the stock market with insider trading isn’t just some kind of paranoid conspiracy theory?”
“Last week,” I retorted, “there would be no way I could convince a determined skeptic, other than to say that my sources have impressive authority and have not been wrong in the past. But as of yesterday, I don’t need to take that tack anymore.”
A moment later, Rose was staring at a printout of the March 1, 2007 SEC docket. Stoked on what was now three cups of Indonesian palm civet cat coffee, she read:
“SEC charges 14 defendants in Wall Street insider trading ring, including personnel at UBS Securities LLC, Morgan Stanley and Company, Incorporated; and Bear, Stearns and Company, Incorporated. The Commission today announced insider trading charges against fourteen defendants in connection with two related insider trading schemes in which Wall Street professionals serially traded on material, non-public information tipped, in exchange for cash kickbacks, by insiders at UBS Securities LLC and Morgan Stanley and Company, Incorporated. The complaint alleges that in the first scheme, which has been ongoing since 2001, at least eight securities industry professionals, three hedge funds, two broker-dealers and a day-trading firm, made thousands of illegal trades and millions of dollars in illicit profits using inside information misappropriated by a UBS executive to trade ahead of UBS analyst recommendations (UBS Scheme). The complaint alleges that in the second scheme, several securities industry professionals and a hedge fund made dozens of illegal trades and hundreds of thousands of dollars in illicit profits using inside information misappropriated by an attorney at Morgan Stanley to trade ahead of corporate acquisition announcements (Morgan Stanley Scheme). Collectively, the complaint alleges, the defendants made at least $15 million in illicit profits from these two insider trading schemes.
“The Commission’s complaint alleges that in the UBS Scheme, from at least 2001 through 2006, Mitchel S. Guttenberg, an executive director in the equity research department of UBS, illegally tipped material, non-public information concerning upcoming UBS analyst upgrades and downgrades to at least two Wall Street traders, Erik R. Franklin and David M. Tavdy, in exchange for sharing in the illicit profits from their trading on that information. According to the complaint, Franklin illegally traded on inside information in his personal accounts and for two hedge funds he managed: Lyford Cay Capital, LP, a hedge fund at Bear, Stearns and Company, Incorporated and Q Capital Investment Partners, LP. Franklin also traded in his and his father-in-law’s personal accounts. The complaint alleges that to avoid detection of this scheme, Guttenberg used coded text messages on disposable cell phones to communicate the tips to Franklin and arrange meeting places where Franklin would pay Guttenberg his share of illegal profits in cash. The complaint further alleges that Tavdy illegally traded on this inside information for Andover Brokerage, LLC and Assent LLC, registered broker-dealers where Tavdy was a proprietary trader. According to the complaint, Tavdy also traded on this inside information stolen from UBS in his personal account, the accounts of a relative and friend, and the accounts of Jasper Capital LLC, a day-trading firm with which Tavdy was associated. The Commission further alleges that Franklin and Tavdy also had downstream tippees who traded on the UBS tips. Franklin tipped Mark E. Lenowitz, who illegally traded on this inside information for DSJ International Resources Limited (doing business as ‘Chelsey Capital’), a private hedge fund where Lenowitz was a portfolio manager, and in his personal accounts. As alleged in the complaint, three registered representatives at Bear Stearns who knew of Franklin’s UBS tips (Robert D. Babcock, Andrew A. Srebnik, and Ken Okada) also illegally traded on this inside information in their personal accounts and, in the case of Babcock, for the Lyford Cay hedge fund. Additionally, the complaint alleges, David A. Glass, the owner of Jasper Capital, a day – trading firm that operated from the New York City offices of Assent, also traded on Tavdy’s UBS tips for Jasper Capital. According to the complaint, Glass and Tavdy paid kickbacks to supervisory personnel at Assent to not disclose this trading scheme. Collectively, the complaint alleges, Guttenberg, Franklin, Tavdy, and their tippees made at least $14 million in illegal profits from the UBS Scheme.
“The complaint alleges that, in the Morgan Stanley Scheme, several of the participants in the UBS Scheme, and others, traded ahead of corporate acquisition announcements using inside information stolen by an in-house lawyer at Morgan Stanley. In this scheme, according to the complaint, Randi Collotta, an attorney who worked in the global compliance department of Morgan Stanley, together with her husband, Christopher Collotta, an attorney in private practice, tipped material, non-public information concerning upcoming corporate acquisitions involving Morgan Stanley’s investment banking clients, to Marc Jurman, a registered representative in Florida, in exchange for sharing in Jurman’s illicit profits from trading on this information. The complaint alleges that Jurman illegally traded on this inside information, and had several downstream tippees who also traded, including Franklin and the Q Capital hedge fund, and two registered representatives at Bear Stearns, Babcock and Okada, who also were involved in the UBS Scheme. According to the complaint, the Collottas, Jurman and their tippees made over $600,000 in illegal profits from the Morgan Stanley Scheme.
“The Commission’s complaint names the defendants and includes the allegations set forth below:
“Mitchel S. Guttenberg, age 41, who is a registered representative at UBS, and is an executive director and institutional client manager in the firm’s equity research department. Guttenberg illegally tipped material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme, in exchange for sharing in the illicit trading profits.
“Erik R. Franklin, age 39, who, at times during the relevant period, was a portfolio manager for the Lyford Cay hedge fund and an employee of Bear Stearns in New York, New York, an analyst for the Chelsey Capital hedge fund in New York, New York, and a portfolio manager for the Q Capital hedge fund. Franklin illegally traded on and tipped material, non-public information in connection with the UBS and Morgan Stanley Schemes.
“David S. Tavdy, age 38, who, at times during the relevant period, was a proprietary trader and registered representative at Andover in New York, New York, a proprietary trader and registered representative at Assent in New York, York, and a trader at Jasper Capital. Tavdy illegally traded on and tipped material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme.
“Mark E. Lenowitz, age 43, who, at times during the relevant period, was a portfolio manager for the Chelsey Capital hedge fund in New York, New York, and a limited partner in the Q Capital hedge fund. Lenowitz illegally traded on material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme.
“Robert D. Babcock, age 33, who is a registered representative at Suntrust Capital Markets, Incorporated and, during the relevant time period, was a registered representative at Bear Stearns in New York, New York, and was associated with the Lyford Cay hedge fund. Babcock illegally traded on and/or tipped material, non-public information in connection with the UBS and Morgan Stanley Schemes.
“Andrew A. Srebnik, age 35, who is a registered representative at Jefferies and Company, Incorporated and, during the relevant time period, was a registered representative at Bear Stearns in New York, New York. Srebnik illegally traded on material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme.
“Ken Okada, age 31, who is a registered representative at Cathay Financial, Incorporated and, during the relevant time period, was a registered representative with Bear Stearns in New York, New York. Okada illegally traded on and/or tipped material, non-public information in connection with the UBS and Morgan Stanley Schemes.
“David A. Glass, age 32, who is the owner and president of Jasper Capital and, at times during the relevant period, also was a registered representative at Assent. Glass traded on material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme.
“Randi E. Collotta, age 30, who is an attorney and the Director of Securities Operations at The Garden City Group, Incorporated and, during the relevant time period, was an attorney in the global compliance department of Morgan Stanley in New York, New York. Randi Collotta illegally tipped material, non-public information in connection with the Morgan Stanley Scheme, in exchange for sharing in the illicit trading profits.
“Christopher K. Collotta, age 34, who is an attorney in private practice. Christopher Collotta illegally tipped material, non-public information in connection with the Morgan Stanley Scheme, in exchange for sharing in the illicit trading profits.
“Marc R. Jurman, age 31, who, at times during the relevant period, was a registered representative at the Boca Raton, Florida branch office of Marlins Capital, LLC, and a registered representative at the Boca Raton, Florida branch office of Finance 500, Incorporated. Jurman traded on and tipped material, non-public information in connection with the Morgan Stanley Scheme.
“Q Capital Investment Partners, LP, which is a Delaware limited partnership with offices in Fort Lee, New Jersey. During the relevant time period, Q Capital operated as a hedge fund. Q Capital traded on material, non-public information in connection with the UBS and Morgan Stanley Schemes.
“DSJ International Resources Limited, which does business as Chelsey Capital, and is a New York corporation with offices in New York, New York. During the relevant time period, Chelsey Capital operated as a private hedge fund. Chelsey Capital traded on material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme.
“Jasper Capital LLC, which is a New York limited liability company owned by Glass. During the relevant time period, Jasper Capital operated as a day-trading firm from the offices of Assent in New York, New York. Jasper Capital traded on material, non-public information in connection with the UBS Scheme.
“As a result of the conduct described in the complaint, the Commission alleges that each of the Defendants violated Section 10(b) of the Securities Exchange Act of 1934 and Rule 10b-5 thereunder, and that Defendants Q Capital, Chelsey Capital, Jasper Capital, Guttenberg, Franklin, Tavdy, Lenowitz, Babcock, Srebnik, and Glass also violated Section 17(a) of the Securities Act of 1933. The Commission’s complaint seeks permanent injunctive relief, disgorgement of illicit profits with prejudgment interest, and the imposition of civil monetary penalties.
“In a related criminal case, the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of New York announced today criminal charges against Guttenberg, Franklin, Tavdy, Lenowitz, Babcock, Okada, Glass, Randi Collotta, Christopher Collotta, Jurman, and others in connection with these two insider trading schemes. The Commission wishes to thank the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the Federal Bureau of Investigation for its assistance in connection with this matter. The Commission’s investigation is continuing.”
Rose emptied the coffee carafe into her cup, took another long drag of palm civet coffee cat doings and handed the docket back to me.
“So sayeth ye Securities and Exchange Commission, on the First Day of March in the Year of Our Lord 2007 and of Our Republic the Two Hundred and Thirtieth,” I intoned with mocking solemnity, “no need for me to appeal to shadowy sources I cannot reveal anymore. And these guys, with their fifteen million bucks, they’re just the tiniest tip of a huge, huge iceberg.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Rose went skeptical right away again.
“Call it a combination of what I’ve heard about insider trading on Wall Street for the last ten years, a master’s degree in finance, and plain old common sense. Didn’t I make it clear how hard it is to nail these guys unless somebody squeals on them?”
“Okay, Tom,” Rose relented, “I really can’t expect you to prove everything behind your advice beyond a reasonable doubt. Your professional judgement seems to have been right often enough,” she gestured to her surroundings – veracity, to a woman, is evident in the quality of a person’s home. “I’m convinced. Wall Street is crawling with criminals out to steal the pants off small investors like Hank and he’s in a completely hopeless situation trying to contend with the likes of them.”
“Exactly,” I replied.
“What the hell can I do, Tom? Hank’s like… he’s addicted to playing around with investments, trying to get rich. I don’t even think it’s the money anymore; it’s the game he’s playing.”
“Drag his butt down to the local Gamblers Anonymous,” I suggested.
“But investing on Wall Street isn’t gambling!” Rose’s protest was tinged with a subliminal admonition to her little brother – stop being so cynical, the world could not possibly be that evil. But, ah, big sister, if you only knew.
“Correct; investing on Wall Street is not gambling. Investing on Wall Street is worse than gambling, because when you gamble, you at least know what the odds against you are.”
Rose finished her coffee. There was a long silence. “I can see it now – ‘My name is Henry, and I’m addicted to investing on Wall Street. I have avoided trading on Wall Street for three weeks and two days. Surrendering myself to a Higher Power, I live One Day at a Time.’ Hank’s gonna love that routine, Tom, I’m so sure.”
“He won’t do it, huh?”
“It would be nearly impossible.” I could see that Rose knew I was right about this, but also that she was pretty much helpless, given the circumstances.
“Okay, then,” I said as I walked over to the cupboard and withdrew a large brown bottle of capsules. “This is St. John’s Wort. It’s a selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor. SSRI’s can be effective in the control of compulsive behavior disorders. Make Hank a three pound dark chocolate wild cherry Bundt cake. Empty thirty of these capsules into the mix. Add extra vanilla, cocoa and sugar to mask the taste.” I reached into the liquor cabinet, taking out a bottle of Schladerer Himbeergeist brandy. “Drench the Bundt cake in this overnight. The fact that it has liquor in it will provide you with an excuse to forbid the kids from eating any, also preserve it for about three weeks. Give him a slice of it as part of his dessert every night for twenty four days. It takes a while for SSRI’s to build up to effective levels. Keep his interest going by serving the cake with ice cream one night, hard sauce the next, and so forth. Then watch him and see if eating the cake makes him lose interest in fooling around with his 401(k). If after about ten days, it seems to be working, maybe you can combine it with some, ah, other ways to distract him a bit more and cure him completely. And there are plenty of other recipes you can use St. John’s Wort in if we get anywhere with this approach. If he gets tired of the Bundt cake before it’s all gone, freeze it and make something else with St. John’s Wort in it instead. Maybe you can get three different cakes or pastries going, rotate them.”
Rose stared at the bottle of herb capsules and the bottle of brandy. “Tom,” she said, after careful reflection, “you’re a much better cook than I am. Could you please, please, please make the Bundt cake?”
“Sure Sis, stop by tomorrow at the same time and I’ll have it ready. And after a few days, if it looks like Hank needs some variety, just let me know and I’ll make something else with St. John’s Wort in it.”
An expression of concern suddenly clouded Rose’s face. “What if,” she asked nervously, “he starts to suspect something?”
“Then,” I replied, “you had better ask him, ‘Who are you and what did you do with my Polish husband?’”
Rose thought about it for a minute. “You’re right. He won’t suspect a thing. He trusts me, the poor guy.”
“Aw, that’s not so bad for him, I think,” I said, winking slyly at Rose as I smiled my little-brother-loves-you smile, “Want a thermos of that coffee to take home?”