The Condensed Milk Dilema P1

      It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled like a lost animal moaning for medical help. My cat was hiding under the bed and refused to come out and face me like the fur ball it was. How could I get the fudge recipe to turn out properly if the condensed milk had run dry? I had planned on sending the cat, Insignificant, to the store, but the coward would not move off his furry behind and buy me more condensed milk for the incomplete fudge recipe. He only gave me one of those cat looks that means "You have got to be kidding me." I guess he doesn't want to go out in the rain. If I was to complete the fudge in time for the party I would have to go and get it myself. I did not relish the idea of going out in the storm, but I knew it had to be done. I pulled on my rubber boots, my rain coat, and my rain hat and ventured out into the stormy night that would change my life forever. The first step out the door I took, was colder then the touch of death, I was very close to just going back in and forgetting about the fudge, except, I had promised the prince of Spain I would make some so I didn't really have a choice. This being my first meeting I wanted to impress him, also, lately,  the prince of Spain had a nasty habit of cutting of peoples heads if they disappointed him. The rain came pouring down and the wind blew from every direction. The raindrops felt like tiny needles being jabbed into my skin and the wind blew so hard I was scarcely able to walk a straight line. The walk to the store is not a long one, but in this weather it felt like I would never get there. Finally, through the rain I could make out the bright and comforting lights of the store. They were like a light house to a ship, those lights. I quickened my steps and was soon in the front doors. Here I must pause and give you a little history of myself and the cowardly cat I mentioned before. My name Anita Maria Kingston. I am a high social standing woman, every body respects me and I respect almost all of them. I often give small parties to foreign royalty and I am famous for the fudge I make. Now, you are probably asking why I don't have one of my servants go and buy the milk. I will tell you. I don't have any. I never did and never will. I don't approve of the whole slave/servant thing at all. Now about the cat, Insignificant, I will tell you the history of a very peculiar cat. He was born on October 13, a Friday. He is a genius and a jerk. If he really tried I'm sure he could speak human. I named him Insignificant to keep his moral low so he would never run away. I don't know if it worked, but he has never attempted to leave. We live in a nice apartment that can hold a fairly good sized party. I am not rich, but I am no where close to being poor. That's really all there is to my history, and Insignificant's. Now, back to the story and the night that changed my life and the lives of two (three including the cat's) other people. The first step in the store gave me a warm feeling as the wind stopped blowing around and the rain stopped pricking me. I walked to the canned aisle and quickly picked my favorite brand of condensed milk, Maytree. I walked up to the cashier holding my can. He checked me out, I checked him out and, well, there's nothing much to tell. I payed the two fifty, he bagged the can, I said thank you, he said have a good day, and I walked back out the door. I pulled my jacket closer around my chin and headed for home. Here is where my life changed, and here is where the real story begins. On the walk home I passed an old man. At first I thought nothing of it, but at a second glance I noticed he had no coat, only a ratty shirt and a scruffy beard on his face. I looked down at my designer jacket and thought about the silk gown I would wear during my party and the mink fur coat at home. I turned back towards the man, who was huddled in a door way shaking from the cold, and peeled off my jacket and wrapped it around him. The chill of the weather instantly set in. I felt very sorry for this man who had to suffer for so long. The man looked at me and gave a very weak smile. I could see how hungry he must be, his face looked caved in and his eyes seemed unable to focus. I watched as he pulled a thin and shaking hand out from the jacket and pulled it closer to himself. I turned to walk away, but stopped. I knew I had a warm home and good friends to go home to, I even had Insignificant. But this poor man had nothing and no one. Again I turned back to the old man, holding out my hand I spoke to him gently.
"Please come with me. I have a warm home you can sit in."
The man looked up at me a smiled again. He dragged himself to his feet and I helped him walk to my home. Once inside I placed him on my most comfortable chair gave him a warm blanket and started warming water up to make him some tea. I placed the can of milk onto the counter and took down one of my good cups and some of my favorite tea. When the water had started to boil I poured it into the cup and brought it over to him. I also brought, on a plate, some toast with roast beef on it. To me it might seem like a meager meal, but I had nothing else at the time I could give him. But when he took the plate and cup, the look in his eyes was that of a man who was looking over a buffet table overflowing with food. I wondered when was the last time he had eaten. I left the man to his feast and warmth, and returned to make the fudge. I mixed in the milk and placed the batter into the oven. I went back out to see how my guest was doing, when I walked into the room I saw him fast asleep in the chair. I had a sudden thought about what the prince of Spain would say when he walked in to the sight of such a bedraggled man sitting in a chair in my house. My guest wouldn't be arriving for another two hours, plenty of time for my fudge, but the look on the poor mans face told me he would sleep much longer than that. I changed into my gown and then I sat down in a chair across from my visitor and watched as his chest slowly rose and fell. I wondered when was the last time he had a good nights sleep. My thoughts were soon interrupted by a knock at the door. It startled me, and woke the man in the chair. At first I thought my guests had arrived early. Very early. The man quickly gathered up his dishes and the blanket and quietly went into another room. I went to check the door. Standing in the door way, rain dripping off him, stood one of my friends, Paul.
"Hello." I said.
"Hello, Anita."
I invited him in and offered him some coffee. After he situated himself in the very chair the old man had been sleeping and taken a few sips of his coffee he began speaking to me.
"Do I smell fudge?" He asked, "I hear the Prince of Spain is very fond of fudge."
I told him it was fudge he smelled but he wasn't getting any till the prince arrived. I asked him why he came and if something was wrong. I was afraid the prince would cancel, and after everything I've gone through it would be a very rude thing to do.
"There's nothing wrong. I just thought I'd stop by and help you finish setting up."
I, of course, knew he came to try and sneak fudge. He was addicted to my fudge. As we sat there I decided I would tell him about the old man.
"You really shouldn't invite strangers into your home. They could be murders or thieves."
Some how I knew that this man was no murderer or thief, but I didn't get to say that for at that moment the timer on the oven went off. I walked into the kitchen, with Paul in close tow, and removed my fudge from the oven. As I finished cleaning up the kitchen Paul stood by the fudge sniffing it, as I turned to put the last of the dishes away I saw the old man standing in the doorway. But now I saw he wasn't as old as I first had thought. His face looked worried, but I could tell he was more around my age, late twenties. His hair, that looked gray in the dark rain, was actually a light blonde. The meal and sleep seemed to take many years off him. It also looked like he had washed some of the dirt off his face, which was actually quite handsome his beard was a little less scruffy now he had washed his face.
"Thank you for letting me stay." He said, "I will not forget your kindness."
Paul stopped sniffing the fudge and walked over to me and stood slightly behind me. I could tell he didn't trust him, but then Paul didn't trust anyone. I accepted his thanks and told him it was no problem.
"I also thank you for the meal, and the warm place to sleep. I see you are getting ready for a party, I will take my leave now."
The way this man spoke was that of an educated man, not a homeless man. The man turned to leave and staggered to the door. I could see he was in no condition to go back out into the cold rain. I called after him and asked him to stay a bit longer. He looked at me and smiled.
"I thank you again, but I think my presence would make some people uncomfortable."
I told him that he was in no condition to leave and that I insisted that he stay and eat a more substantial meal and get a proper rest. I could tell he wanted to stay and take me up on my offer, but felt awkward about being here during my party. I told him I had a spare room he could use, I also said he could use the shower and take a bath. I think this is what got him to stay.
"Thank you, I must say I would like a good meal. I haven't eaten anything, except for what you gave me, for about five days. And shower? I can't even remember. I will stay if you are absolutely sure you are comfortable with it. Does your husband object."
This last part was directed to Paul, who had said nothing through out the whole conversation, a sure sign he didn't like this man. But Paul spoke now, and if it weren't for the fact that I know him so well, I would never had guessed he didn't like him.