compared to what you can accomplish with your own efforts,” Sophie explained, “is the same idea.”
“You’re going to have to expand on that,” he frowned.
“I’ll give you an example,” Sophie replied. “Let’s say you want a new car. You know how much it costs. You know how much you make every month. If you’re relying on your own efforts, you sit down and make a plan to put a certain amount away every month, or maybe you go to the bank and apply for a loan, hoping your credit rating is good enough. You can calculate how long it will take to get the car you want. And it will probably happen eventually,” she paused, “if all goes as planned.”
“But that’s the thing,” Jace interrupted. “We don’t have control over the unknown.”
“Exactly. That’s why that way doesn’t work.” The old woman sipped her tea. “People struggle and struggle and barely get ahead by those kinds of efforts.”
“So what’s the alternative—to borrow other people’s money?” Jace was thoroughly confused.
“The alternative is to change your focus. Change the story you’re so valiantly telling. Expand your expectations. You can learn from the rich, you know.”
Jace noticed a twinkle in Sophie’s eye before she turned away to set her cup on the counter. “What are the rich going to teach me?” he asked, his frustration evident. “How to take advantage of the little guy?”
“They’re not all like that, Jace,” she replied, maintaining her sweet, even tone.
“Maybe not,” he conceded respectfully. “But I don’t see what I could possibly learn from them.”
“Listen to the stories they tell; notice what their focus is on; see how they expect wealth to come to them,” she replied. “If you want to be like them, you’ll have to start thinking like them.”
Jace’s frustration increased. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he declared. “I do want to be rich one day, but I’ll never be like they are—taking advantage of those who don’t have as much.”
“Then just don’t focus on that aspect of them,” she said simply.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jace regretted giving in, but he was done. I’m not spending my Saturday afternoon arguing with an old lady, he grumbled silently. “I should go. I’m meeting my friends later.”
“It was nice talking with you, Jace.”
“Do you need me to drive you anywhere tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I’m expecting company. But thank you for asking.”
Jace left her apartment, relieved yet still full of questions. Sophie’s words made sense, yet they stirred him up and left him confused. Is it possible to become rich by thinking like they do? he wondered. Can I learn from them even though they’re arrogant assholes? The questions continued to pull at him for the remainder of the afternoon.
Maybe Sophie knows what she’s talking about, he speculated later as he walked to Chad’s place. If she was rich once, that is. But why isn’t she rich now if she knows the secret? Does she live this way by choice or is there something screwy in what she believes? He preferred to think that it was by choice and not the fault of the belief itself. Like it or not, he was invested in what she was telling him. More than ever, he wanted it to be true.
WITH A CLEAR PLAN in mind, Cassandra left the Town House, Sunday morning. She was dressed more casually than she had been on previous visits with her aunt, and though her father had left the keys to her mother’s Bentley, she took a cab instead.
After instructing the driver to park across the street from her aunt’s building, Cassandra remained in the back seat, donned her dark glasses, and waited. She’d brought along the latest copy of her company’s magazine but didn’t open it, not wanting to take her eyes off the front door in case she missed him.
She was filled with nervous excitement. It wasn’t the first time she’d played the spy. After hearing a rumor
“You’re going to have to expand on that,” he frowned.
“I’ll give you an example,” Sophie replied. “Let’s say you want a new car. You know how much it costs. You know how much you make every month. If you’re relying on your own efforts, you sit down and make a plan to put a certain amount away every month, or maybe you go to the bank and apply for a loan, hoping your credit rating is good enough. You can calculate how long it will take to get the car you want. And it will probably happen eventually,” she paused, “if all goes as planned.”
“But that’s the thing,” Jace interrupted. “We don’t have control over the unknown.”
“Exactly. That’s why that way doesn’t work.” The old woman sipped her tea. “People struggle and struggle and barely get ahead by those kinds of efforts.”
“So what’s the alternative—to borrow other people’s money?” Jace was thoroughly confused.
“The alternative is to change your focus. Change the story you’re so valiantly telling. Expand your expectations. You can learn from the rich, you know.”
Jace noticed a twinkle in Sophie’s eye before she turned away to set her cup on the counter. “What are the rich going to teach me?” he asked, his frustration evident. “How to take advantage of the little guy?”
“They’re not all like that, Jace,” she replied, maintaining her sweet, even tone.
“Maybe not,” he conceded respectfully. “But I don’t see what I could possibly learn from them.”
“Listen to the stories they tell; notice what their focus is on; see how they expect wealth to come to them,” she replied. “If you want to be like them, you’ll have to start thinking like them.”
Jace’s frustration increased. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he declared. “I do want to be rich one day, but I’ll never be like they are—taking advantage of those who don’t have as much.”
“Then just don’t focus on that aspect of them,” she said simply.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jace regretted giving in, but he was done. I’m not spending my Saturday afternoon arguing with an old lady, he grumbled silently. “I should go. I’m meeting my friends later.”
“It was nice talking with you, Jace.”
“Do you need me to drive you anywhere tomorrow?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I’m expecting company. But thank you for asking.”
Jace left her apartment, relieved yet still full of questions. Sophie’s words made sense, yet they stirred him up and left him confused. Is it possible to become rich by thinking like they do? he wondered. Can I learn from them even though they’re arrogant assholes? The questions continued to pull at him for the remainder of the afternoon.
Maybe Sophie knows what she’s talking about, he speculated later as he walked to Chad’s place. If she was rich once, that is. But why isn’t she rich now if she knows the secret? Does she live this way by choice or is there something screwy in what she believes? He preferred to think that it was by choice and not the fault of the belief itself. Like it or not, he was invested in what she was telling him. More than ever, he wanted it to be true.
WITH A CLEAR PLAN in mind, Cassandra left the Town House, Sunday morning. She was dressed more casually than she had been on previous visits with her aunt, and though her father had left the keys to her mother’s Bentley, she took a cab instead.
After instructing the driver to park across the street from her aunt’s building, Cassandra remained in the back seat, donned her dark glasses, and waited. She’d brought along the latest copy of her company’s magazine but didn’t open it, not wanting to take her eyes off the front door in case she missed him.
She was filled with nervous excitement. It wasn’t the first time she’d played the spy. After hearing a rumor
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