The Sweet Edge Read Online Free PDF Page B

mark."  Stella lied. Earlier in the morning she scrapped much of the book and was down to ten pages.
    Campbell was impressed. In his mind, Stella was a nice woman of limited means and talents. He wasn't sure why he thought that, but he was happy to be very wrong about her.
    "What do you do?" Stella asked.
    "I'm in finance. Trader. Economics at MIT and then MBA at Harvard. Boston boy. What town are you from?"
    "Chelmsford."
    "Ah, I know it well."
    "We were poor." Stella had no idea why she said that.
    "So was I."
    "Given your home address on Park Avenue, I would say you did well."
    "I did well. It took time, but I did well."
    "Your parents must be proud."
    "Yes. No. They don't really understand what I do. They think I am doing something illegal. Gambling or something."
    "Being a trader is gambling. Legalized gambling that the economy relies on, but gambling all the same."
    Campbell laughed. "An accurate assessment."
    Stella smiled. "So what happened with your girlfriend?" Stella was curious.
    Campbell's face looked momentarily darker. "She was my girlfriend for the money. She traded up. She dumped me for the CEO of the company I work for. Devin Roberts. You might have read about him in the Wall Street Journal."
    "I don't read the Wall Street Journal."
    Campbell smiled. “Right. There’s no use talking about it. I got over it the night I got drunk, met you and made an ass out of myself. She was obviously a gold digger. Remarkably beautiful, but shallow.”
    Stella looked away. Campbell sounded bitter. She suspected that he had deeper feelings for his girlfriend than even he suspected.
    The waiter came with a large tray. He poured wine, presented the drinks and arranged the cluster of plates artfully. He left only when Campbell waved him away. Campbell named every dish and encouraged Stella to eat.
    “Eat as much as you want. This is your French experience.”
    Stella ate happily. She was in love with the golden beet salad with goat cheese and pistachios. The tuna tartare was delectable. It was complemented by a spicy avocado mixture that Stella was mad about. Stella said little to Campbell as she munched. The food was too good to ruin with talk. Campbell said nothing either and eagerly shared the plates with Stella.
    When the appetizers were done, Campbell leaned back and drank wine. “What do you think?”
    “About the food? Marvelous. Simple ingredients, but expertly prepared."
    "That's French cooking. It's all about technique."
    Stella sipped the grapefruit and vodka. "So is the famous Belvedere vodka in this drink?"
    "Yes." Campbell looked proud.
    "Do you own stock in the company or something? You keep pushing the vodka on people."
    "I like fine things." Campbell's voice was sharp.
    "Obviously, but not everyone can afford fine things. Sometimes cheap is just as good or better because it's affordable."
    "I don't agree." Campbell straightened the butter knife on the table.
    "I don't believe in expensive, name brand things simply because they are expensive, name brand things."
    "I don't agree. Luxury is a gift you give to yourself and others in your life. Luxury is a reward."
    "What about those trust fund brats that are born into luxury? Did they deserve the reward?"
    "Look. I’ve worked hard. Earned money. I can afford luxury items. I'm rewarding myself. My work allows me to reward you with a first class dinner. What's wrong with that?"
    "Nothing. But don't mock people for being frugal. Don't mock me for drinking cheap vodka."
    "I'm sorry." Campbell looked sincere.
    Stella smoothed the napkin on her lap. "I haven't done as well as you. I need to save money any way I can."
    "I understand. Really. I do. I'm sorry I insulted you."
    "In the book I am writing, the heroine is wealthy. Penny pinching isn't romantic, fun or escapist."
    "That's true. There is nothing rewarding about poverty. Nothing. It's dehumanizing."
    "Can we change the subject?" Stella looked around for the waiter.
    The waiter approached with a large tray